


The Recycle Bin

by Jimcloud



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Slow Burn, So much angst, Trans Male Character, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23491843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jimcloud/pseuds/Jimcloud
Summary: When you die in the simulation, you die in real life....Well... mostly.When Amami Rantaro wakes up in a library alone, in a building he doesn't recognize, with no memory of who he is or why he's here... he has to make the best of it. To put on a smile, to just keep moving.To survive.What else can he do?
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Oma Kokichi, Amami Rantaro/Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi, Amami Rantaro/Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 63
Kudos: 153





	1. Chapter 1

My eyes blink open slowly… lazily, almost. I find myself on the floor of some room I don't know that smells like musty old books, in a building I'm not familiar with. That doesn't bother me as much as I expect. I can't remember where I am, or even who I am. Do I have family? Friends? Acquaintances? Lovers? Couldn't tell you. That doesn't bother me as much as I expect.

Actually, as I slowly sit up on my hands and knees, the only thing that bothers me is a subtle, nagging feeling that when last I went to sleep, I wasn't expecting to wake back up.

I remember a name, at least. Rantaro Amami. Mine, I think. If not, I like it enough that I may as well have it.

On instinct, I pull out some electronic device in my pocket, which opens to reveal a map of the area. I look it over for a few minutes and then try and get it to display its other functions, which it doesn't seem to have.

...Odd. I feel like it was supposed to do more. And… in a scenario like this, I feel like my feelings are the closest thing to truth I'll find. So I choose to believe them, until a better alternative comes around.

This place has a sleepy air to it. It's not just the plants growing wildly over parts of the building, though that's certainly a factor. It's not just in the way my footsteps softly echo against the halls in places, but that sure hits.

Mostly, it feels sleepy because it's making me tired.

It's an oppressive kind of tiredness - one that feels like it threatens to overwhelm me, knock me down and never let me back up. But it's quiet, and it's in the back of my head, and I push it further out of mind as I keep wandering - a bit out of disinterest, but more out of fear. Last time I slept… I thought I wouldn't wake back up. Who's to say I'll wake up again?

I wander around, a bit aimlessly. I don't necessarily want anything to _do_ with anything here, I just want… something to do. Everything on the map matches up with what I see in front of me. I find a lot of things, from a spacious dining room to a room full of weaponry to a huge server room to an Olympic sized swimming pool to a casino, for some reason?

But, pointedly, I don't find an exit. I _feel_ like I'm _supposed_ to find one, when I reach a small boiler room in the back, but there's nothing there. I'd say it's upsetting, but I don't feel upset. I feel like I think I'm _supposed_ to be upset, but someone plucked out the part of my brain responsible for _making_ me upset, so I'm just a bit nonplussed.

The feeling just makes me tireder. I shake it off. It's not claiming me tonight.

I do things to keep myself busy. I read some, I think. I swim a bit. The thing I'm doing doesn't matter, I just need to be going.

I have to stay awake.

I _have_ to stay awake.

I can't remember _how_ or _why_ but I know what sleep feels like, this kind of sleep. It feels like death.

I don't want to die, so I decide I won't, and that's that. Now just to make it happen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rantaro's not alone anymore.

I don't think I'm much of a people person. Don't get me wrong, though, I like the _idea_ of people. I like people watching, I like looking at a crowd from a distance (I think…?), I could spend months learning about different cultures and never get tired of it. I'd love nothing more than to have a younger sibling or two; a brother, maybe, or oh! A little sister would be nice.

But I can't handle more than five people at any given time. I startle at loud noises or sudden movements. I get overstimulated with a quickness. Some days I feel more like a wall than a person, conversationally at least.

What I'm trying to say is that I don't really consider myself the kind of person who's predisposed to loneliness. I make some small talk with the waiter at a restaurant, that's my social quota filled for the day.

And yet, here we are.

All this space, all to myself, and I'm so, _so_ alone.

The fact that this place is obviously made for more than just me paints an even harsher picture of the situation. Like… it's one thing to sit in your one-bedroom apartment and while away your time doing nothing in particular. There's another kind of sadness to that. But I'm standing in the middle of a dormitory meant to hold up to sixteen; more if it's not just one to a room. There are some kind of plates on the doors, probably for identifying the owners, but they've all worn away... faded until they're unrecognizable.

Except for mine. A cutesy little chibi picture of my face, with my green hair stubbornly refusing to sit flat on my head, adorns a single door on the lower level by the stairs.

So this place is meant for me. And if the other faceplates are to be believed, _only_ me. But perhaps… not only me forever? A tiny spark of hope flares, dully, in my chest, and I tamp it back down. Until there's evidence, there's no point in getting desperate about anything. No sense in wasting energy nurturing emotions that might not even matter.

I've been getting more and more tired by the… I don't know. The minute? The hour? Day? Week? Month? How could I tell? But… the more tired I get, the more my other emotions seem to die away. The fear that sharpens the corners of my vision dulls... I feel like I'm staring my worries down through a smudgy pane of glass. There's a sense of wrongness to it, and even _that's_ subdued, like a TV is playing a show about some horrifying thing happening to someone else. It hurts, but it hurts so far away it feels impossible to move, to do anything about it.

I have to move. I have to _do something_ about this.

I enter my room, moving forward on legs that feel like putty. There are a couple of things lying on the tables, nothing really important or personal. Nail polish, some makeup (my hands run over the contour on instinct, and I think I'm most familiar with that one), basic toiletries. A sewing kit. A small knife.

Normal stuff.

I don't linger in the room much longer. It might be _for_ me, but that doesn't make it mine. It doesn't _feel_ like it's mine.

Nothing much does, really.

The bedroom didn't help my tiredness. When I step out into the main dorms, I can't help the suspicion that nothing _will_ help my tiredness, that I'll just fade, slowly, into whatever oblivion this blurred out vision of reality offers.

Then I spot it, and everything jolts back into focus. I feel more real, more awake again.

There's a faceplate, on the opposite side of the dorms as mine, with a face on it. It wasn't there before, earlier, when I checked. 

My chest flutters, and I slowly, reluctantly let the tiny spark of hope in my chest flare up into something more. My legs carry me over to it before I can think about it.

She has blonde hair, lilac eyes, and a big smile.

Truth be known, she could be green, hook nosed and warty for all I'd care right now. This wasn't here before. Someone else is here.

I sprint out of the dormitory, heading back towards the library. It was where I woke up, so it must be where-

I stop. My eye catches movement in the opposite direction, just before I turn. Down in the direction of the fountain. That works fine too, I'm not a real picky guy.

Someone else is here. _Someone else is here._

I almost trip on the stairs on my way down, but I manage to keep steady enough that I look almost composed by the time the girl spots me and starts trotting over. She has an easy gait, the kind of walk from someone who doesn't do much more walking than to or from school. Her face brightens when she sees me; seems genuine enough. Not a fighter… probably not a threat.

I only spare half a moment to wonder why _that's_ what I thought immediately on seeing her before all my gears have focused on reading her, before I'm smiling friendly at her.

"Hey there, stranger," I say as she approaches.

She looks at me curiously with those big lilac eyes, nervously adjusts the arms of her backpack. She's not used to wearing it. "Um… hi. I don't suppose you have any idea just _where_ we are?"

"Not a clue," I rub the back of my neck awkwardly, keeping my smile up, "sorry to disappoint." I shift the conversation, sticking my hand out in front of me. "I'm Amami Rantaro."

She only looks me over for a moment before taking my hand in hers. "Akamatsu Kaede. Did you just wake up here, too?"

I scratch the back of my head again. "Yes… and no. I woke up…" I don't know how long, but I can't say that, can't show that amount of weakness, "a little while ago, not around here. In a library in the main building. I've just been running around and exploring since then. Some of the stuff around here is… I _think_ it's supposed to get some kind of reaction out of us, but I can't imagine _what._ "

I turn and start walking back towards the main building, and she skips quickly to keep pace with me. "So… what's this place supposed to be? Any ideas?"

"Well…" I put a hand on my chin. "If pressed, I'd say it's meant to be a _school?_ " My voice lilts uncomfortably with that last word, betraying my own doubt.

Schools don't typically have hangars for giant robots, or a space age looking cockpit, or whatever that red and black room on the top floor was supposed to be.

We climb up the stairs and the overgrown environment of the main building comes into stark view.

"A _school,_ " Kaede echoes, the hand nervously gripping her backpack strap loosening.

I just shrug.

After a moment of staring, she points her finger over towards the dorms. "So… are those for us to sleep in? Because I'm feeling a bit tired right now… could probably go for a nap before we get going."

" _Don't sleep!_ " I snap, before I can think about how to word that, before I can wrap my naked worry and fear in practiced ease. Her purple eyes widen in a look of concern, and a little bit of fear, and I slip on an apologetic smile and laugh awkwardly because I _have_ to. "Sorry, what I meant to say was," don't sleep, don't sleep, don't sleep, how can I get you not to sleep, "I haven't had anybody to talk to since I woke up here and I'm kinda going a bit stir crazy at this point, so maybe we can talk a bit for now and I can show you around the place?"

It's a little desperate, but… I'm a little desperate. Hopefully it's in a way that seems relatable and not… needy.

Her wariness dissolves after a moment into a smile and a nod. "Yeah, I think I can do that. And I'm a bit curious, too, honestly."

So we walk, and I talk, more than she does by quite a bit. I tell her some about the places we pass, showing her things like the pool and the library where I woke up. I talk some about what I _think_ some of my old hobbies and interests were - I can't be sure, but I feel like wandering through these hallways gave me a little bit of reference for the person I… Was? Am? It's a little bit of a relief, but makes the emptiness of missing myself so much worse.

"I'm impressed you remember so much, Amami," Akamatsu comments, "I can't really remember _anything_ about what happened before this, or… who I am." Her eyes drop to the floor.

"Hey, don't worry about it, it didn't come to me all at once, either," I tell her. "Just give it some time. I think you might end up…" I trail off, as I realize she has done the same. She's standing in place, and I nearly left her behind before noticing she wasn't following. It drove a spike of fear in my chest for a moment, but it's mostly gone now, she's just…

Hmm.

Her eyes are drooping, her head lolling downwards. I snap my fingers in front of her face, and her eyes brighten, seeming to turn a deeper shade of purple.

"Stay with me," I say. She blinks, rubs her eyes, and nods.

I'm more aware of how much I'm dominating conversation after that, and _why_ I am. I keep a single wary eye on Akamatsu as we keep exploring, watching for more signs of her falling off. She almost does, a few times, and I have to snap her back to attention once, but everything mostly goes okay from there.

Until we hit the second floor, and then she stops in her tracks again. I glance back at her, but she's not falling asleep - her lilac eyes widen as she stares at one of the doors. "What does _that_ one lead to?"

I glance at the door, marked by piano keys. "Oh, that's a music room," I tell her.

She picks up speed, wandering into the room before I've even fully registered it. It's a far cry from the barely-awake girl I was dragging around before. I follow her into the room, my steps only a bit hesitant, just a touch unsure.

The room is just as I remember it. Smallish, mostly just one piano, a number of seats surrounding the piano for listening, a wall full of CDs, a radio. A bit impressive, but I've never been a super musically inclined person.

If the way Akamatsu passes her fingers over the ivory means anything, that's not the case with her.

"I'm gonna play something real quick," she chirps at me, all eager smiles. I give her a little nod, sitting down on one of the tiny seats nearby. She does a quick, brief riff, seemingly to get a handle on the keys before she changes abruptly to some other tune, something she must know by memory. It's cute, quaint and slow and relaxing. She obviously knows her way around a piano. Looks like she found a hobby after all.

By the minute mark, I've already yawned three times. My head feels so foggy. Is this-

This is a lullaby. She's playing a lullaby.

"Hey, Akamatsu," I shake my head briskly, standing back up, "I appreciate your skills and all, but we should probably stop for now."

I wait a conversationally acceptable few moments.

Nothing.

"Akamatsu," I repeat, a bit louder, with a bit more edge. 

Nothing.

" _Kaede!_ " I shout.

Nothing.

When I get close to her, when I look to her face, I feel the color drain from mine. Her mouth, crooked up in a smile before, is absolutely expressionless now. She looks almost like a doll, expression carved carefully neutral. And her eyes…

The color's gone from them, stolen away, a lifeless gray left behind like some sick joke.

My heart won't stop pounding in my chest.

I shake her, as hard as I can. "Akamatsu! Hey! Wake up!"

A bit of color, a tiny splash of purple, returns to her eyes, but it's muted, faded. Her eyes slowly find mine, a hand reaching away from the piano. "Amami, what…?"

"Stay with me! We've _got_ to keep moving!" I don't _care_ how upset I sound now. The more I put into the voice, the more my urgency should reach her.

She stares back at me, eyes already drooping. "I'm… so tired, Amami… let me rest?"

Her eyes close, and then, after a few moments, blink back open.

They're gray again.

Lifelessly, soullessly, her hands move back onto the piano, keep playing that same lullaby. It doesn't make me sleepy now. I don't know if it ever could, now.

I try shaking her again, harder. She doesn't even react this time.

I try picking her up and carrying her out of the room. She just walks back in, shakily and jerkily, like a zombie.

I punch her.

Nothing. Just… nothing. Nothing of the girl I met oh-so-briefly remains except a husk, gray spreading from her eyes to the rest of her face, to her hair, like a sickness. Like she's being turned into a barely-moving statue.

I can't let this happen to me. I can't. I refuse to wither into some stony-faced invalid in this soft, weighted-blanket hell.

I don't care what it takes. I will _never_ lay down and rot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rantaro feels to me like the kind of guy who loves nothing more than being out on the ocean, camping in the woods somewhere quiet, spending time in some remote village nobody's ever heard of. So... not ESPECIALLY a fan of the academy, I'd imagine.
> 
> Rantaro is extremely proficient with a needle; he has used this talent both for mending clothes and for stitching up injuries. He feels to me like a guy with an extremely varied and diverse skillset who fails at knowing how to do the most basic shit you expect someone to be able to do. don't ask him to cook anything if it's not extremely basic or over an open fire. It's a mistake.
> 
> Hi Kaede what's u-
> 
> oh
> 
> oopsie woopsie


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rantaro makes an important new discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey fair warning, if you were looking at the "unhealthy coping mechanisms" tag and wondering when that was coming up, wonder no more, because it's gonna be semiregular from here on out.
> 
> There's also a bit of blood, and Rantaro makes allusions that sound a lot like depression and just a tiny bit like being suicidal (tho he's not if it helps) so take care of yourself.

I spend a lot of time in the casino.

To my surprise, the whole place is fully functional and not that dissimilar to some actual casinos I've seen (the question of where or why I've seen actual casinos before, tragically, remains unanswered). It's one of the ones that integrates quirky little arcade games into the format; some kind of puzzle game, a racer, and a fishing game sit along with some more tried and true things like slots.

I exchange some of the coins I found in my pockets for currency, and I drop one token into the machine and idly watch it spin, watch the bright lights and hear the loud clanging noises every time the reel stops.

I hate casinos. They're loud and obnoxious, they smell like cigarettes and cheap (or, sometimes, expensive) booze, and they give me a headache. I have a headache right now, actually, which I blame squarely on this casino.

But I need the noise and I need the awful flashing lights and I need the headache. I need something, _anything_ to ground me here, to keep me awake, to keep me alive.

I don't know how long it's been since Akamatsu… "fell asleep." Much, _much_ longer than the time I spent between waking up and finding her, that's for sure. In that span of time, I only just managed to do a full loop around the main school building and a partial loop around the outside areas. I probably could have managed a full loop around… well, everything... five, six, seven times since then.

I'm so tired.

I went back and visited her a few times, when I was feeling particularly exhausted. I needed the shock, something to snap me back into awareness, the reminder of just how far I could fall if I wasn't careful.

It's stopped working now. I'm starting to come to terms, and it's starting to mean less and less and less, seeing her playing her piano nonstop, a symphony in cold, dead gray. The headache and the slot machines beeping little migraine spikes into my skull are starting to help less and less, too.

I feel like I'm trying to fight the ocean. Like I'm building dams and running to higher ground and scaling mountains like a man possessed as the water just keeps steadily climbing behind me. There's a part of me, a tiny part, that craves the feeling of water sweeping me away, of falling beneath the waves and drifting into death. An end to running, something final.

But I get up, and I massage my temples, and I make one leg lead the other, and I keep scrambling up the cliff face, ignoring the water at my feet.

I can drown another day.

I start doing another full circuit around the school, walking from space to space, indoors first and then out. If I do the stuffy indoor areas first, outside will feel like a treat afterwards, and I'll be able to pretend this place gets a breeze if I walk fast enough.

I don't really expect to find anything new, though I _do_ scope out every corner and double-check every crevice. You never know what details you might've missed on the first look through.

I only get up to floor 3 before I open a door and think to myself, _you know, Rantaro, sometimes you make mistakes but I don't think you would have missed_ this _one._

There's just… a gaping, black _hole_ in the air. It's just… there!

It's a little bit disconcerting, but more than that, it's… exciting? I feel a hum in my chest, energy pumping through my veins and waking me up like nothing has in days-

Has it been days? How did that only hit me just now?

I take a step, and then a second, unsteadier step towards it, shifting my weight, bringing my hands up close to it. It feels like electricity, almost. The hair on my arms stands up on end. It hurts a little, stings a little, but it makes me feel _alive_ like nothing's ever made me feel alive, nothing I can remember.

Before I know it, I've already stuck my hand through, into the darkness. It _burns_ but it burns the way menthol chills, the way it burns when you stick hydrogen peroxide in an open wound and watch it bubble gently as it tears every impurity out of your opened skin.

It feels great. I can't deny it.

It's not long before I've put another hand in, and then I'm staring it down, looking into a void so dark I can't see anything, not even my own hands poking through, and then-

and then my head is through and it's like I'm looking at a whole other world.

The rest of my body follows me in, a clumsy mess of limbs as I fall to the floor. Pinpricks stick in my legs and hands like I'm just coming out of really bad sleep, the kind where you stop feeling your body. I scramble to my feet, wincing at the feeling as I do.

This place… doesn't look like anything I've ever seen. It's not really clear where the place starts or stops - aside from the dark hole behind me, everything is just moving, whizzing lines of white and red in a void space. It makes my heart beat even faster in my chest.

It doesn't make sense.

None of this makes sense, really - I've tried to question it before, in that place I was in, but _how can I_ when I can barely even _think_ to ask the right questions, like I'm passing through a dream, like I'm sand falling through my own fingers. What is this place? What is _that_ place? Why am I forced to be here? I don't know where home is, but it's _not_ this, that much I _know._

My brain is running a mile a minute, and I can't shut it off, I can't focus, like I'm on a rollercoaster that just took a dip. I feel warm, _so_ warm, like I'm going to burn through my own skin, like I'm going to vibrate out of reality. I feel all the fear I've been _trying_ to stir up in my chest for days and days now, all at once, and I can't sit still, can't leave it. All the anxiety, all the concern, all the unease, all the pain and aggravation and the guilt and _I can't save them now_ and-

and- where did that come from??

I try and grasp at the thought, try and pursue it, but it's gone, worse than gone, it's like it was never even there, like every time I try and reach for it I feel it less and less, and I repeat it aloud so I can burn it into my skull.

"I can't save them now? I can't save them now?" I echo it, not really feeling anything from it except a _burning need_ to _know_ what it _means_ because it has to mean _something_ everything means something and if you say otherwise you're a liar, worse than a liar, fooling yourself while trying to fool everyone else.

I can't think.

I can think so much better than I ever have, since the moment I woke up in that _hell_ of a "school."

But I can't think.

It feels like I fell out of a freezer and into the fire. The shock feels like it's going to save me and going to kill me, all at once. I can't hold steady. I can barely keep myself breathing, air going in and out in shallow, raggedy gasps.

I don't understand what's wrong with me. What's _been_ wrong with me, since I first woke up in that place. But something _is_ wrong with me, I know it, and it gnaws at my bones, tears under my skin, rips at me all the more because I _don't_ know what it is, I _can't_ know, and this is making my headache worse, so much worse, I feel like my head's about to split open-

I stop. My hand had reached up to the back of my head on instinct at the pain, which is fine. That's not a big deal.

It's the wet sensation that makes everything stop at once.

Slowly, purposefully, I bring the hand up to my face, knowing already that I won't like what I see, and I don't.

My fingers are dyed a deep shade of pink.

Tears fall from my face and I don't know why, I don't understand _any_ of this, but my legs pick me up and before I know it I'm back in the school, out of the hole. I stare at my fingers again, eyes pulled to them like they're stuck watching a car crash.

But there's no blood there, now. There's no sign there ever was any. And when I rub my head, gently, carefully, it's the same.

I'm collapsed onto the cold tile at my feet before I know it. And for once, I'm not upset at this place for dulling my panic, for lulling me into a forced sense of calm.

Just a little bit. Just enough to stay sane. I won't be able to…

...save anyone…

...if I can't even control myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rantaro is struggling big time trying to keep himself awake. I didn't mean to turn this into Rantaro Is An Insomniac: The Story, but I guess that's what happened and we have to live with that.
> 
> ...alright i really tried talking about the rest of this chapter but it would mostly be a bunch of winky emojis and smiley faces and "HMMMM what do YOU think is going on"s so maybe not this time? I'll save the teasing for later.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rantaro finds another friend.

So, let's summarize. I think I'm capable of _that,_ at least.

When I'm here… I feel stifled, restrained. I feel like I'm constantly fighting against a clock, ticking down to when I fall out of it, when I turn into some kind of grayed out person like Akamatsu did (I'm not letting go of her name. I'm keeping it. I don't care what else I've forgotten, I'll remember her, who else will?). Thinking is a little difficult, more… distant from myself. _Feeling_ is even harder. Every emotion feels like it's hidden in a shell, like I can only catch fleeting glimpses through the tight spiral. The more tired I get, the worse it gets, the harder everything gets.

And then there was… that. Whatever _that_ was. That black hole leading into that white and red place. It's hard to even _remember_ how it felt, now, it was so completely _alien_ to what I'm feeling now. Everything I've been trying to feel, trying to make myself feel, it sprung up effortlessly in there, like a geyser. So fast, so strong, I couldn't control it, I could barely _understand_ it. I'm going to be thinking about some of that for days.

It was… weirdly refreshing. I think normally I'd hate that kind of thing, but compared to this place? Honestly, I needed the break. If you could even call it that.

The hole vanished when I exited it, but I'm not tired anymore. I don't feel it. I'm so happy I could _cry,_ I have time, I feel… as energized as you _can_ feel in this place. I'm awake for now. I'm okay for now. I just have to hope that it shows up again, in some capacity. If it doesn't, I… I'll figure something out, I guess.

I don't think I'd want to go back just yet anyways, with that headache still distantly signaling pain like water slipping out from tiny spiderwebbed cracks in a roof. Let's wait until we repair the roof before tearing it off again.

...Alright, that metaphor kinda got away from me, admittedly.

I get up, eventually, and keep doing my rounds. I can only sit still in one place for so long, especially in _this_ place, which is all but begging for me to stop rolling so it can cover me in moss. It's not long before I get another surprise in a different form, in the form of another guy standing by the indoor tennis court, idly staring at the serving machine as I enter.

"Oh-" My voice cracks and rumbles from disuse, and I clear my throat, putting on a smile. "Hello! My name is Amami Rantaro."

He barely turns his head at me, his big eyes blinking. "Hoshi Ryoma," he offers, in a voice that feels decidedly too low for his tiny stature.

I take the opportunity to answer some of his questions, to the extent that I'm aware of anything here. I tell him a little bit about myself as we walk. I show him Akamatsu.

"So she just… ended up like this?" He asks.

I rub my arm nervously. "Yeah…"

He's silent, then, and so am I, for an uncomfortably long time, just the two of us, Akamatsu's ghost, and her sickeningly sweet lullaby playing into eternity.

"...I've got a tough question for you," he finally says, something to break the silence.

"Mm?"

"Do you think she's dead?" He asks, and I'm… not sure how to answer.

"For all intents and purposes… she may as well be," I finally say. She's never going to laugh or cry or get excited about piano. She's just going to play, again and again and again. Like a machine.

"See, I'm not so sure." He pulls a candy cigarette out and sticks it in his mouth. "This place doesn't feel like death. I was ready for death once, I think. This is more… comfortable. Quieter, gentler."

He looks me dead on with his big, dark eyes. "I think I'll join her, if it's all the same to you."

I-

What?

... _What??_

He laughs a small, wry chuckle, looking at my face. Not sure what about that he thinks is _funny,_ but. "Sorry about leaving you alone here. That's my one regret… though if people keep trickling through like they have, maybe you won't have to be alone for long."

"It's not - it's not _about_ me," I spit, "what about you!?"

"I'm tired." He lets out a sigh, and I half expect smoke to blow from his mouth, forgetting it's not a real cigarette. "All I want to do is rest."

"You- you _can't!_ " I shout.

He offers a glare - intended, obviously, as a warning, not as an actual threat. It's still enough to chill my bones. His energy is terrifying and real, the energy of a man who has killed before.

I really, really wish I knew why I knew that.

"Why?" Is all I can ask. He told me why, but… why??

He looks sadder, then. He shakes his head. "I told you why. I just want a break from it all."

That's not - that's not enough reason to throw your life away. It's never enough reason to throw your life away. I can't let him do that.

But all I say is, "you're sure?"

He nods. "I'm sure."

I… I can't watch it happen, so I just leave. I offer a small parting wave, force myself to, because I have to do _something_ that makes it seem like maybe I'm okay with this.

Why? Why? _Why?_

I just don't understand.

When I come back later, Hoshi's gone. I find him, eventually, in his room, door ajar, laying on the bed. There's a peaceful expression on his face.

But I can't stand to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Ryoma and im so sorry i had to do this to him
> 
> this chapter is kind of short and it's annoying but my chapter lengths have been all over the place and I CRAVE a consistent second character in my story so I can get these lengths under control. God damnit Rantaro make some FUCKING friends already


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rantaro remembers something.

Tojo doesn't last much longer than Akamatsu did. I show her what happened, explain the situation as I know it, warn her about everything. She nods, and dutifully "takes on my request." I find her later, frozen in gray, cleaning the school. Like cleaning the school  _ matters _ if no one's alive to benefit.

I find the hole again, somewhere different to where it was before. That's a huge relief. If it keeps showing up, then I can just keep finding it. If I can keep finding it… then maybe, just maybe, I can keep awake. And maybe I can keep someone else awake, if I can bring them here. I just have to time it perfectly.

I enter it again, once, while I'm waiting for another to show. I've noticed a pattern. First one person shows up, somewhere in the school. Then, shortly after, someone else shows up, from the fountain. Then there's a lengthy delay, then someone shows up somewhere in the school again. Then it repeats. I still need to watch and make sure this holds, but… if it does… then I should have time to find it again, and show it to them.

I can't let this keep happening. I can't be left alone here. I can't keep letting them down.

That feeling just magnifies and intensifies when I step through into the hole, like everything does. I thought I was ready for it, but I wasn't. I don't know if I ever could be.

I wrack my brain, to try and try and  _ try _ to restrain this feeling, somehow, to not let it run roughshod over me. I need to  _ focus, _ to try and weaponize this time into thinking about something useful, maybe for figuring something out. Anything.

I start by focusing on the here and now, on using my legs. They tingle and burn as I walk, slowly, around the area I'm in, trying not to get too far from the hole.

Turns out I needn't have worried, as I almost immediately walk headfirst into a wall that otherwise looks exactly the same as all the rest of my surroundings.

I put my hand out on it - it feels a little sharp, but not in the way something poking at you does, it just… makes my hand a little on edge, putting it there. But I keep it in place, and use it to follow along the wall, slowly, to see if I can get the rough dimensions of how far this goes.

Some trial and error and running into more walls later, I've figured out that this space is actually  _ a lot _ smaller than I'd anticipated. It looks like it goes on forever, but actually it's not much bigger than a small parlor, a bit smaller than the classrooms back at the "school" I'm stuck in. it can fit… maybe ten people, if you give them enough space between each other. You could probably fit all theoretical 16 if you crammed them in like sardines, but my mild claustrophobia is going off just  _ thinking _ about that.

This place… I dunno what to even call this place. The other place? That's easy, it's the school. I don't particularly feel like blessing it with any name in particular. This place, though, there's something strange about it. Something fascinating, even though the white and red flecking across my vision is extremely surreal and a little terrifying. It feels like something final, climactic.

I think I'll call it the End.

...that immediately feels really melodramatic of me, but I've been nothing if not melodramatic this whole damn time. What's another one to add to the pile? It's not like I'll ever get anyone else here to tell them what it's called anyways.

...Oh, that's bad, that was a bad thought. Don't like that one. I shake my head briskly, trying to clear that out. It… doesn't completely work, but I see it through with some good old-fashioned ~not thinking about that,~ which has worked for me before.

Uhh… let's see, let's see, something productive.

Who am I? Why am I here? I don't know, but if I could figure it out anywhere, it would have to be here, right?

Let's see. I'm familiar with traveling… I know that. I must have done it a lot. Things must not have been the most easy or safe if I know how to size people at a glance, but… was I a fighter? Have I killed people? No, surely not, right? ...Right??

I knit my eyes shut. What was I… A spy? That would explain some things, the way I get defensive, the way I'm careful, but that sounds like a lot. And wouldn't a spy have, I don't know, better coping mechanisms for this kind of situation? And be less of a ditz? It doesn't add up.

I look at my hand. Tense it up and release. Do I know how to kill? Am I practiced at it?

...No? I don't think so? I don't know why I would be.

Why is killing the first thing I think about? Why am I so nervous about that? I feel like maybe I'm a bit more nervous about killing and/or dying than the average person, and there has to be a  _ reason _ for that. I'm sure there's some kind of reason. But  _ what. _

I'm straining my brain, and I'm getting nothing, and I slam my fist into the ground, and I feel like I'm falling.

_ "What the hell is going on?" I say, in a hateful tone I'm not familiar with me using. "I thought I was supposed to die." _

_ "Well now, well now, well now well now well now," the, the other person (person?) squeaks in a shrill, high-pitched voice, and I  _ hate it, _ I hate whoever it is with all of my heart, "did I say we would kill you? Did I even say we would punish you? I don't remember that!" _

_ I hate him. I'm ready to snap, to hit him, to… I still. "So what." It's phrased as a question, but it doesn't sound like one. "What do you want with me, then." _

_ "Upupupu… Well, that's easy!" the  _ thing _ laughs at me. "You're gonna participate in the next killing game!" _

_ "Another!?" I snap. "There's going to be another!? That was supposed to be the  _ last _ one!" _

_ "Oh, that was just a buncha crap, Rantaro." its voice levels out. "The killing game is just too popular to stop! And  _ you're _ just too popular to  _ waste _ like that." _

_ I say nothing. My hands are shaking. I want to kill him. I want to die. I don't want to do this. _

_ "So we're gonna remove your memories and put you in the next killing game! Doesn't that sound just  _ spectacular?  _ Fan favorite Rantaro, lost his Ultimate Talent, forced to fight for his life yet again. It's… Extreme!" The thing laughs again, reverberating in my skull like a gong. _

_ Then it's like a switch flicks off in my head. I'm so mad it just… vanishes, vanishes into deadly calm. "Fine. So all I have to do is survive a second time. I can do that." I ignore the twisting in my gut, the fact that the first time was  _ hard enough, _ it's  _ fine. __

_ "Oh, my  _ darling _ Rantaro, so quick to agree! That's good.  _ Cooperative _ participants get to leave a little bit of help for the you that comes later." _

_ I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I  _ hate him so fucking much. __

_ "Elaborate." _

_ "Follow me," he says, opening a door that wasn't there before. I follow him into the space, he sets me down in a stool in front of a camera. _

_ "When you're ready, just start talking. We'll record it and share the parts we like with the new Amami Rantaro… when we want to, of course." _

_ Oh, of course! Of course. I sit down. I can't even look at him. He exits the room without a word, and thank god, I don't want to do this with him in here. _

_ I take a few shuddering, raspy breaths. _

_ I fix my face into something purposeful, meaningful. I wear an expression I don't have often, one of plain determination. _

_ The face of a survivor. _

_ "Hey there," I finally speak, my voice calmer and steadier than I expected, "guess I don't have to introduce myself, huh?" _

My head hurts. My head  _ fucking _ hurts. It feels like I'm going to explode. My skin feels like it's going to burn me alive. I have to move. I have to move.

I move.

Then I'm out again, but my skin feels like it's on fire, I can still feel the blood dripping down the back of my skull, like it's  _ still there, _ but it's not, it can't be.

I feel for it. It's not there. It's just not.

But the burning feeling remains. The memory remains.

_ What _ on  _ Earth _ am I supposed to  _ do _ with that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to the tojo fans out there but we are nyooming through these initial segments. I wanna come back eventually and have a little focus on each of the dead ensemble, but right now I just want to get to Ouma god damnit
> 
> the End finally gets a name, and it's super edgy because, uh, you know, it be like that, idk.
> 
> WELL DONT WORRY RANTARO IM SURE THATS ALL A COINCIDENCE AND NOT IMPORTANT, NBD. NO WORRIES. WINK WINK NUDGE NUDGE ITS FINE. It's fine.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rantaro makes some new discoveries, thanks to a new friend.

I missed her.

I realize when I run over to the dorms from the latest End point, my third one. You can see the little faceplates and tell who's joined in - and they're even  _ so kind _ as to denote who's already fallen "asleep" by graying out their little chibi portraits.

Akamatsu's is gray. Hoshi's is gray. Tojo's is gray. And now… this new girl, whoever she is, hers is gray, too. I can't take it. I sprint off. I have to find her, whoever she is, and I have to at least  _ try _ to wake her up.

If nothing else… I need her name. I  _ have _ to have her name. Someone has to remember her.

It's all I can do to remember the people here and now. I won't forget anyone ever again, if I have anything to say about it.

I sprint through the building, opening rooms left and right, finding nothing and nothing as I keep going and going, until I find a door that won't open. The art room? Well, fine, there's another door on the other side- and, it's locked too. I circle around, back to the main door.

It's a cylinder lock. In theory, I could  _ maybe _ pick this lock. If I knew how to pick locks. Which I am pretty sure I do not.

Alternatively…

_ WHAM _

_ WHAM _

The door shudders against my kicks, and my foot protests as well. Let's see… force needs to go  _ near _ the keyhole, near the place the door swings open. We're trying to get the lock to break, not the wood, that would just be stupid. With one more  _ WHAM, _ I hear the sound of something metal breaking, and the door slides open. Part of the door knob drops to the floor in front of me, which would be funny if I was in a mood to laugh.

And there she is, in front of me, moving a brush across an easel. The brush doesn't even have paint on it - she's, quite literally, just going through the motions. And I really, really hate that. Her full body hasn't grayed yet, I don't think - I have to assume her hair just looked like that before, because her face is still a vivid dark shade, untouched by gray.

"Hey," I put a hand on her, knowing about the level of physicality I need to start at to have any hope of getting a reaction. "Look at me. Look at me. What's your name?"

No response.

My other hand grips her other shoulder. I shake her a bit. "Hey! Hey! Your name! Tell me your name!"

She blinks at me, her eyes growing slightly less glossy, but still gray. Maybe that's… just the color her eyes are, actually. I didn't think about that.

"...Angie…" is all she murmurs before blinking again, before her paintbrush moves again.

"Hey! Angie! Wake up! Talk to me!" I keep shaking her, keep moving her, keep shouting, keep saying her name. It doesn't work. None of it works.

It takes another consistent five minutes of effort before I finally give in. She's not coming to again. I was lucky just to get that word out of her. This is so  _ aggravating. _ I guess I got what I wanted in the absolute, complete worst case scenario, but I wasn't really  _ hoping _ for that! I wanted to save her! Why can't I just…

What if I dragged one of them all the way out to the End with me.

God, that would be so much work, possibly down flights of stairs, and they start moving away as soon as you let go of them. It'd be… so much. Maybe if I had someone else helping me, but I don't. So what am I supposed to do?

For now, I just head, slowly, back to the dorms. I pull out the knife I took from my room a little while back, and into the wall, next to her faceplate, I carve Angie's name.

It looks small, tiny, next to the full names I put down for Tojo Kirumi and Akamatsu Kaede. But it's  _ something. _ It's a memory of her, and nobody can take that away.  _ Nobody. _

I sigh, cast one last glance at the faceplates, and go into my room, sprawling out on the bed. If I was more tired, I wouldn't risk it, but I just got out of the End again, so I'm probably good for a while, and something about laying on a bed staring up at the ceiling is just real good for thinking.

It's been a while since I hit on that memory, the one of some… killing game. One I must have been in. Talking to the person who ran it. Being made to enter  _ another one. _

At the very least, it answers my question of why I'm so focused on whether or not people can kill me at a glance.

And did I… I think about my headaches, about the blood.

I can't. I can't be dead. I can't be dead. I definitely don't  _ feel _ dead.

Then again, how would being dead  _ feel, _ how would you know? I… don't know. But I can still feel my heart pounding sometimes, so if I'm a dead person, I'm doing a real bad job of it.

...Then again… when was the last time I ate something? Or drank water? I haven't felt hungry, for as long as I've been here. It's  _ weird. _ It's weird, right? Like… I guess everything is weird here.

_ ARGH. _

This accomplishes  _ nothing. _ Every time I feel like I'm onto something, I second-guess my way into the ground. It's not like there's someone here to help me through this game of hot and cold. All I can do is just echo guesses into the air and listen to my own voice parrot them back at me. It's stupid. Knowing won't change anything. But I feel like I  _ have _ to know, or I'm never gonna find peace. ...Not that peace is necessarily a  _ good _ thing to have, here.

I get up. That's enough thinking for now, plenty of raking the coals over the same thing over and over again. It shouldn't be too long before someone else shows up. I step outside, give the faceplates a scan.

There's another face.  _ Already? _ That was fast! That was too fast! It's never  _ been _ that fast! I  _ run _ out of the dorm, checking downwards, towards the fountain. Nothing? That's not right. I look around the buildings nearby, investigate the fountain. Check the hangar, even. Nothing, nothing, nothing. This doesn't make sense. If they're not here, where?

...Is this breaking the pattern?

I take the stairs two at a time, lungs burning in my chest (what a  _ living _ feeling, me) as I sprint over to the main building. Where to check first, where to check first, where to check first…

I hear a girl's voice shout at the absolute top of her lungs, "yoo-hoo!  _ Hello!? _ Anyone here?" and my heart skips a beat.

Okay. Okay. We're okay.

She sounds like she's above me, so I head towards the stairs. "Yeah!" I shout, "I'm here!" I'm not totally convinced she heard me, because her yell carries better than I do, but it's fine. I'll be closer to her soon. 

I go up the stairs, round the corner, and very nearly crash right into her. I manage to stop, she doesn't, and soon we're both on the floor.

"Ow! Hey, watch it!" She scolds, quickly picking herself up off me.

I decide not to comment, coming to a standing position a bit more slowly.

"Your movements are slow," she says, scowling as she looks me over, "and you look weak. Are you the reason I'm here in this school?"

"No," I insist, rubbing the back of my neck, "we're in the same boat here, so it's best we get along." That last part is spoken with just a bit more force than I'd intended. "I'm Amami Rantaro."

"Chabashira Tenko," she responds. "So if you are not a kidnapper, I insist on knowing why you came here."

"To-" I'm momentarily stunned, "to help you?"

Chabashira frowns. "Well… I suppose I can allow that. What do you have to offer?" She unsubtly checks out my arms. I guess she has more physical assistance in mind.

"Information. I've been here for a while, actually, so I've found some things out." I say. She pauses, thinking, before eventually she nods.

I run down some of the basic things I know, leading her to where Akamatsu is. In part because she's sort of my default by this point, but also because she's closest to where we are now. Chabashira blanches when we get there, and turns to me, betrayal obvious on her face.

"You just  _ left her _ like this?" She spits. "What kind of man  _ are _ you?"

I hang my head, because I've already figured out how to play Chabashira like a fiddle. "I did what I could, but I just wasn't enough to save her."

Chabashira frowns and huffs, "I suppose it's the most I could have expected from you," before going over to try to wake Akamatsu up herself. Which is really the most painless ending I could have expected, and I'm starting to adjust to that fact.

She walks over, calmly lays her hand on Akamatsu's shoulder, tries speaking to her softly at first, caresses her cheek, shouts at her, shakes her, etcetera etcetera. Nothing I haven't tried (aside from the cheek thing, which I would feel very awkward trying), and unsurprisingly, nothing that works.

Chabashira grumbles and grouses, keeps trying things for a  _ very _ long time, but eventually she relents, coming back to me with a defeated expression.

"I admit… I may have been a bit too hasty in dismissing your efforts." She sighs.

I shrug. "Don't worry about it. I would probably feel the same way if I only had someone's word to work off."

She nods. "So…" her determined expression fades into something more neutral. "What do we do now?"

"Uhhh…" I admit, I hadn't thought that far ahead. "Well… I could try showing you something."

"Something else?" Chabashira raises an eyebrow. "What is it  _ this _ time?"

"I call it the End."

\---

We spend a while walking around the school, looking for the thing's latest hiding spot, while I explain what it is and why it's important.

"You really need this thing to stay awake?" Chabashira frowns.

I nod. "I wouldn't have lasted this long without it, no doubt."

"And it just looks like a hole in the sky?"

"Well, not the  _ sky, _ exactly, but in the air, yeah."

I swear, it's like the more I want to find the thing, the harder it hides from me. I can tell Chabashira's getting impatient with me the longer this goes on for, so I try and walk faster, search faster, tell her some things about the different places we end up in. It doesn't stop her from being antsy, and doesn't stop her from making  _ me _ antsy in turn, but it's enough to take the edge off at least.

We go up to the fourth floor - apparently where Chabashira woke up - and find nothng. We keep going up, looking through the rooms there, until we have to go back down. We search the space room (I hate these stairs, who thought this was a good idea) and head back down (I HATE these stairs), and  _ finally _ find the thing inside of the boiler room, of all places. I swear it's annoying to track down just to spite me.

"Alright, here it is," I say.

Chabashira stiffens for a moment, doesn't say anything. Then she steps inside the room, looking around.

"Where is it?" She asks.

I-

I don't know how to respond to that.

I gesture at the hole, hoping this will help her but knowing in the back of my mind it will not. "It's… it's right here."

She gives me a look like I'm crazy. "No… I don't think it is."

I sigh. "Okay, let's try something else, then."

I shove my hand in the hole, watching as it disappears. Chabashira gasps aloud, grabbing my arm and tearing it back.

"What happened!?" She asks, glancing between me and my hand nonstop.

I shrug. "I just put my hand in the hole. It's not like I was in any danger. Promise."

She frowns at me, but doesn't say anything else.

"Actually…" I think. I might be on to something. "Can I try something, with your permission?"

"You're gonna have to be more specific than  _ that, _ " she crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at me.

Yeah, I mean, yeah. It's just hard to say. "I want to see if I can lead your hand into the hole through touch. Just… if I can grab your wrist or something and take it in along with my hand."

"Ew!" Chabashira shouts. "No no no! Maybe if it was Akamatsu, it'd be one thing…"

…

I just stare at her.

"Listen, you," she glares harder, "I don't want you getting any filthy ideas!"

"I'm gay," I say with a sigh. ...It was  _ meant _ as a deflection, but when I hear the words they sound truer than I'd intended. Huh. You learn something new every day.

"W-well," Chabashira blushes, her hands falling to her sides, "that's all well and good, but still!"

"Just one try?" I ask.

She doesn't say anything, just reluctantly offering me her enclosed hand. I grip it gently by the wrist, leading it slowly into the entrance to the End. She starts sweating when her fist hits the portal and starts going inside, eyes all bug-eyed.

"W-what's happening?" She swallows. "Is it okay? It feels  _ weird. _ "

"It's fine," I reassure her, slowly leading more and more of her hand into the portal, until mine starts to disappear as well. The electrifying sensation is almost welcome to me by this point.

"Stop, stop, stop,  _ stop! _ " She shouts, yanking her hand out of my grasp. I almost stumble backwards, but just manage to catch myself. That was a  _ lot _ of unnecessary force, yow.

"No more of that," she says, shaking her hand and staring at it all big-eyed, flexing the fingers like she's making sure they're still there.

"Well, fine," I shrug, realizing I'm probably never going to get Chabashira to agree to something she's not already at least neutral towards. "Would you prefer if I just pointed the hole out to you and you tried to put it in yourself?"

She frowns, staring at me for a long, hard minute.

"Fine," she finally says. "I'll at least try it."

I stand next to the hole - I realize now, looking at it from the side, it's practically flat, almost two-dimensional - and wave my arm up and down in front of it the full length a couple of times, before leaving it to sit just in front of the End, a bit low.

Chabashira winds up her arm, stretches, stares my arm down,  _ tries _ to stare down the space in front of it but her eyes just go back to my arm. Finally, she draws it back, and punches right through the space above it, into the hole.

It goes right through. I can see Chabashira's arm on the other side of it, from where I'm standing.

"Nothing," she says, shaking her head. I nod.

"Yeah…" I bring my hand up to my chin. "I just don't understand."

"I don't either," bringing her reproachful eyes back towards me. "What's so special about  _ you, _ Amami?"

…

I wish I knew.

\---

We leave not long after that. Chabashira takes me over to the dojo near the front of the school, tells me we're going to train our bodies to keep our minds sharp. It feels a little bit like an excuse to me, but I won't complain. I know some basic self-defense, and I don't mind getting more practice with it.

What I  _ do _ mind is the insinuation that she stubbornly refuses to have anything to do with the End, but I can't control her. God knows if I could control anyone it would  _ not _ be Chabashira, that's for sure. I almost admire it, her willful spirit, but it would be easier to admire if it didn't mean she was smiling as she marched off to her death.

The matches start off straightforward enough - not unexpectedly, Chabashira cleans my clock. Several times. I think she must have some kind of training, and it's good. I'm not familiar with the style, which just makes me more curious. She gives me tips as she's knocking me to the ground, and I get better, gradually. Not good enough to hold a candle to her, but better.

Which is why I'm surprised when we start getting more evenly matched, when I end up taking her to the floor.

Chabashira shudders, her eyes flutter open, back shut, and then open again, and I realize.

"One more round," she pants, "one more round."

"You need a break," I tell her. "We should go-"

"No!" She shouts at me, picking herself slowly, god so slowly, off the ground. Shaking a little. "We should keep going. We've gotta… keep going."

Seeing her so tired like this reminds me of how tired I am, too. I need to get to the End. Soon.

"We should both go to-"

"No!" Chabashira brings her arms up, hands ready to strike. "I'm going to live this life on my  _ own _ terms! No one else's! I… I can do this. I can do this."

"No," I snap, and I clench my fists, and I glare, and I hate it, "you  _ can't. _ "

"Try me," she grins, slipping back into a stance. "If you can beat me here, I'll go with you."

"Fine," I spit through gritted teeth, and I lunge.

She wins. Again, and again, and again.

It takes me longer than I care to admit, to realize that I'm fighting her ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to Angie fans (and kork fans) but [fast forward sounds]
> 
> Rantaro: has enough survivor's guilt to choke a whale  
> Rantaro: this is fine
> 
> I love how Rantaro is at once probably the calmest viewpoint character we're going to have all throughout this story, but also the most inclined to kick a door down by, like, a lot. I think that just says a lot about him as a person.
> 
> Tenko is an important character in this! Mostly because it felt like she was one of the ones who was most inclined to stay awake any significant length of time through sheer willpower alone. Which I try and showcase here.
> 
> Tenko does not completely trust Rantaro, and does not really like this fucking "hole in the middle of the air she can't see" business and HONESTLY? DON'T BLAME HER. I DON'T.
> 
> Next time? A surprise. Hope y'all are excited, because I sure am.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ??? wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight warning, the viewpoint character has some slightly bloody description here and there, and they have a (brief) attack during the chapter.

Uuuuugh, oh my god, this absolutely  _ sucks. _ I have a headache  _ and _ I'm laying on something cold like a moron  _ and _ it feels like metal. And it's not even like I can roll over and go back to sleep and pretend this isn't happening! Because I guess I decided to  _ sleep on cold metal last night like a freak. _

What was I even doing. Probably killed the prime minister. I'm on the run right now from my crimes, stealing sleep where I can, doing my best out here. It's a lonely life, but-

This is stupid what the fuck am I doing.

Okay, well, eyes, we could open those first, maybe, Ouma Kokichi. Wait-

Is that my name? Yeah, I-

Yeah. I… yeah. I guess it is.

Fuck.

What the  _ hell _ happened to me last night?

I blink open, and light  _ hurts, _ it just really hurts. Am I a vampire? I just think it'd be kinda neat to be a vampire, just once, which makes me think I'm probably not a vampire, which absolutely sucks.

I get distracted from the latest nonsense stream of consciousness by what's right above me. It looks kind of like… I dunno, a bed canopy? But made of metal? Is this like some kinda coffin, but, dammit, what's the word for it, like, cool metal sculptures and shit? Art deco? No that's not it. Fuck.

Good god Ouma  _ please _ stay on track for one minute. This literally does not matter.

I roll out of bed before I can stop myself - well "bed" - and tumble onto the floor, falling down a slight incline until I finally get to a stop, and now my shoulders are sore and my brain feels scrambled and I have one or two regrets but Ouma Kokichi does not regret. Probably. I think that's true, anyways, so I'm making it so.

I give my head a quick, brisk shake, and dart into a sitting position. I'm, uh… wow I sure am  _ somewhere, _ huh.

I get up, walking over and inspecting the  _ giant robots _ in the room. They look to be asleep, but who's telling how long that'll last for. God it'll be  _ so cool _ if we can get them up and running! Look at them! They should totally be my minions! I want to run around the whole school and decimate the entire bug population with their bug-killing eye lasers.  _ That'll _ show them nasty bugs for existing in  _ my _ school.

I… really need to stop rambling about shit that means absolutely nothing. School? Bugs? What does that even  _ mean _ . ...Well, the bugs bit is obvious, at least, bugs have no rights.

_ Anyways. _

This place seems to be some kind of futuristic-looking robot storage hangar. Even the bathroom is weirdly high tech! Actually, the toilet kinda gives me the creeps…

Under ordinary circumstances, this would mean that it would be time for me to do a  _ whole lot _ of messing around. However! I have woken up in an unfamiliar place with no memory of how I got here, almost no memory of who I am (besides a damn handful to deal with, don't envy you, Ma), and the not at all worrisome knowledge that someone must have placed my sleeping body under a  _ WORKING HYDRAULIC FUCKING PRESS FOR SQUISHING THINGS, _ I feel like it's about time to make myself scarce. Quick-like.

...And then I shiver, which, when I look down, the reason for becomes obvious.

I'm not wearing a shirt.

What the hell happened to my shirt? I  _ know _ I should have a shirt. I feel as though shirted is my default appearance, and not least because I get nervous seeing these scars on my chest. Feels like someone's gonna cut me open. Not that that's happened… probably. I'm sure I got these biking down the street, going out of control down a hill, and slam, thud, blood everywhere-

...Stop dwelling on it, Ouma. You're gonna look weak like this.

Well, I'm gonna look weak like this  _ anyways, _ nega-Ouma, because I  _ don't _ have a  _ shirt _ and I  _ need one _ or else  _ everybody's _ gonna see my  _ nipples _ .

Yeah. That's what I'm worried about.

So, step one! Find something around here that can cover my phenomenal pecs. 

I start scanning for anything cloth-aligned, and aside from the toilet paper rolls (no) nothing in this place really jumps out at me, it's all metallic and-

Wait. Wait wait wait. Whoa. What's  _ that? _

On the press, under where I was laying, there's some kind of cloth. I guess I didn't notice, since, you know, cold metal underneath it and all. On closer inspection, it does, in fact, seem to be a shirt. A jacket of some kind, actually. It has a nice sorta off-purple color I like, but this is  _ definitely _ not mine. It's  _ way _ too big, for one, and for two it has some kind of space aesthetic? Which I can respect, but it is not  _ my _ aesthetic. I'm not a space gay, more of a crime gay, you know?

...Wait,  _ am _ I a crime gay? The absolute worst part about being me is I have zero idea if what I'm saying  _ means _ anything or if words are just rumbling out of my head meaninglessly, again.

But I decide that doesn't fucking matter when the complete  _ stench _ of this jacket hits me in waves. Absence makes the heart grow fonder it did  _ fucking _ not with this one, because I can only assume sleeping on this jacket led to me tuning out the absolute cacophony of a smell on this thing.

Body spray.

Whoever owns this jacket uses  _ way, WAY _ too much  _ FUCKING _ body spray.

I can't believe this. I am a king, a god. An absolute legend. I do not deserve to toil under these conditions. People should be kneeling to me and offering me silks! They should  _ not _ be forcing me to go around bedecked in a jacket that is five times too big for me, that smells like someone loudly declaring their heterosexuality to the world like they're some sort of closeted plebeian.

Ugh. Ugh!  _ UGH. _

I put on the goddamn stupid jacket of straight pride +5 and button it up all the way like some kind of fucking freak. Oh, god, wait, no, that's my neck. I undo a button.

Well I dunno about the fabric - I don't think this was supposed to be worn as a base layer of clothing - and I have to roll up the sleeves so obnoxiously hard I feel like I'm wearing a morning after shirt. But. It does cover my body, and it does so slightly better than toilet paper, so I guess that's about as much as I can ask for right now.

So with  _ that _ all dealt with… it's high time we got out of here. God please let me get out of here.

The hangar door is open (a  _ hangar door, _ really), so I just slip out of it, careful to be at least a little bit subtle about it. Because let me tell you I  _ cannot _ tell you how badly I do  _ not _ want to get caught here. Who knows who did this to me, who they are, where they are, what their game is. Hell, they might even be planning on me escaping right now. Hard not to considering the  _ fucking open hangar door, _ you know.

So I'm small and I'm quiet and I'm everything I need to be as I amble down this mazelike passageway that looks like something out of a shitty YA movie. The reeeal shitty ones that dump all their money in the special effects budget.

Eventually, that gives way to, uh. Something weirder, actually, because  _ boy howdy _ this place cannot keep a consistent aesthetic to save my life. There's some sort of laboratory building to my right, past that is a little square area. Looks like it leads, in one direction, to some sort of old-timey dojo, because sure, why not. There are stairs down that lead towards some kind of European styled fountain with, uh, a hell of a statue. Then there are stairs up, which lead to... 

Dormitories.

My attention is immediately caught. You know what dormitories mean? Clothing. And you know what that means?

_ Crimes. _

I reach into one of my pockets on instinct, and sure enough, there's a set of lockpicks there. I didn't  _ remember _ them being there, but hell, I'm not complaining.

I weave quickly, cautiously past hedges and trees, up stairs, down the courtyard. No one's visible, at least, which means I need to move quickly. There's no telling how long this will last.

I move to push the doors open on the dorms, just for them to automatically slide open and  _ scare the shit out of me _ god I hate it when doors do that. Dorms, okay, back to the dorms. They're… not what I expected, actually. There are over a dozen doors, separated into girls' and boys' sides, each room marked with a little icon of the person whose dorm it is. Some of them are worn away, or unmarked, maybe? Most of them are grayed out. Only two of them are normal. One, on the lower level, marking some dude with green hair.

The other, on the top level, is… me? I  _ think _ that's me. It's gotta be me.

The door's open.

So… I guess I'll just… go in. This isn't where I  _ thought _ this dorm adventure was gonna go, but okay, sure.

I'm a little conflicted when I stop inside the room. On the one hand, I don't have any memory of spending any time in here, ever. On the other hand, I genuinely do not believe anyone  _ but _ me could have trashed this room so thoroughly, in exactly this way.

There are boxes upon boxes full of blueprints - I glance over them, and some are grayed, blurred out, but some are just normal. Hey, a lot of these are really cool! If I made these ideas, I'm extremely proud of me. Then there's the random bullshit strewn about, including an inner tube with rope attached, an aerial drone, a legitimate horse mask with a crown (hey, I get it, Ouma, clever), and a life sized wax statue of someone, hung upside down? Whoever they are, they're a little bit cute.

...Gay thoughts later, Ouma.

I'm not really sure what to make of this place. It makes me feel more comfortable and less, all at once. Like I'm  _ supposed _ to recognize this room, but I  _ can't. _ It's agonizing.

Then I see the noteboard, and my heart leaps into my chest.

There are… photographs, of all of the other students, on the board. The green haired kid, with an arrow pointing to some blonde chick, a little orb hanging over a chibi of him sprawled on the floor. The next one has some guy I don't recognize with a maid, the inner tube and some meaningless scrap drawing. Then there are two girls on the left, and some weird looking guy on the right.

Then,

I had to make more vertical room, because I ran out, I guess,

my hands brush against the man on the right's photo, and I'm not really sure why,

and I'm desperate to think about anything else, so I look to the rest, but the photographs are all blurred,

and there's nothing,

and theyre nothing,

NOTHING,

but i want to take them all and  _ rip them off the board and tear them to little pieces and not stop until theyre gone and i dont have to think about it _

and i

i

i should check the closet

i should check the closet.

I check the closet.

It's simple in here. It's quiet in here. It's just some outfits that I think are mine. They look like they fit me. White and black is a little bit tacky sometimes, but I think this works. And I really do like the scarf. So I take off the jacket - god, I don't even need to unbutton it - and drape it over the bed before putting on a shirt, in a nice, comfortable fabric (thank god) and a scarf that's even cozier. I dig my face into it, and it smells like clean laundry and just a hint of soap, and I sit down in the closet for a minute and we're fine.

It's fine. I'm fine.

Then I hear the intercom buzz. Someone knocking on the door, strongly, insistently.

I creep out of the closet, sit next to the door. I have a hand on a lockpick. It's not exactly a  _ weapon, _ but in a pinch, it can surprise someone. I'm crouched, ready to spring. The door's locked. I made sure of that before I walked in here.

"Hello!" I hear a surprisingly deep voice from the other end, a little bit sultry -  _ focus Ouma _ \- if strained. "Is anyone in there!? We  _ need _ to talk, if you're there!"

Talk, huh.

"I have information you  _ need _ to hear. This place, it's dangerous - it's already," their voice breaks, "taken so many. So if you're in there, come out!"

I don't touch the door. I stay ready.

A pause.

I hear something collide against the door, once, twice, three times.

"Ow, damnit," they whisper under their breath. Sounds like they fought the door and the door won.

"Fine," they say, after another pause, "if you're in there, come out at your own pace, but whatever you do,  _ don't sleep. _ If you get tired, find me.  _ Please. _ "

They repeated the word, softer, under their breath. It smacks of desperation.

Or a lie.

I hate liars. How are you supposed to know what to trust when people are always lying to you? Lies should just be abolished completely, that's what I always say.

_ Focus. _ Focus focus focus.

I listen, so hard I feel like I can almost hear their breathing. Then I hear footsteps, fast and quiet, until very quickly I no longer hear them. These rooms must be well-insulated or something.

I wait a moment, undo the lock, wait a few more moments, a few more, a few more, and I slowly open the door. Just enough to peek through. I open it a bit wider when I don't see anyone there, poking my head out. No… nobody.

I slip out, quickly, quietly. I close the door behind me, and pick the lock shut real fastlike. It's something of a relief that, even if I don't  _ remember _ where I picked this up, the muscle memory is serving me quite well. Guess I'm a crime gay after all.

I peek over the railing, checking to make sure this person didn't set a trap for me as soon as I climb down the stairs. Nope. Nothing on the other end, either. Most of the rest of the doors are still open - which is probably why they got suspicious when mine was closed, damnit.

I creep down the stairs and check the doors, flinching as they automatically slide open. No courtesy, no  _ goddamn _ courtesy.

Then I spot him, out of the corner of my eye. Green hair and a striped shirt - just like the doll in my room. No, the doll must be just like  _ him. _ He's sprinting up towards the main building, which looks overrun and run-down but, almost, weirdly, impressive?

And just a bit familiar, but I can't place  _ why. _ I hate that.

I follow him, as close and as fast as I dare. It's easier than I thought it'd be, actually - he's very loud about opening and closing  _ every _ door in this building, so I don't even have to be in sight range. I steal glances at him when I think it's safe. There's worry on his face, just a bit of panic. And he doesn't know I'm here. Unless he's expecting to find me any moment now and he's forcing the worried look for  _ that _ long - an impressive long con - he  _ might _ just be genuine.

Might.

Might doesn't mean safe, doesn't mean I can trust him. So I watch him as he heads downstairs. Downstairs means that he's probably going to come back upstairs, soon enough. Means he'll come back through, and probably see me.

Or it means I can set up an ambush for him. Even if he has the edge on height and weight, if I tackle him from behind right after he finishes climbing stairs, especially at the speed he's going, he'll probably struggle to fight me off. It'll give me time to grab his wrists and sit on them and get him to answer all my questions from a position of strength.

Probably.

It's the best chance I'm getting.

So I sit in the corner, small and quiet, and I wait and I wait and I wait and I'm not good at waiting but I'm used to it so I wait, I keep my eyes fixed on that staircase until they hurt from not blinking, until I'm blinking them manually, until that and my breathing - slow, quiet - are the only things I'm thinking about, waiting for something to happen that I can only barely remember in the periphery of my mind.

And then it happens, he takes the stairs two at a time like a moron, stops for just a moment when he reaches the top, takes a breath, and I'm on him. I push him to the ground, I grab his hands and I sit on them, straddling his back, putting as much pressure on them as I can, gripping his forearms tight for good measure.

I expect him to struggle, but he doesn't. He doesn't at all, and it makes me uneasy. He just moves his face to the side so it's not embedded in the floor, one of his eyes just barely catching sight of me, I think.

"Fancy meeting like this," he says, with a laugh that sounds more like a cough, and I hate that he has such a nice smile, cute piercings, a stupid pretty boy face that makes you want to trust him. I  _ hate _ it.

And I realize it's showing in my face, so I relax, opt for something more neutral. A slow smile spreads. "It's how I prefer my first meetings to go, really."

"Well, maybe a little warning next time?" He smiles at me and  _ god, fuck him, stop acting like we're friends _ . I  _ literally _ have you pinned and at my mercy. Does this not  _ concern _ you?

"Assuming there  _ is _ a next time. I think this meeting will be our last, don't you?" I speak in a low tone - I'm realizing I have an unexpected level of range, actually, and I'm reveling in it - and give him my most menacing grin.

He raises an eyebrow. "You don't have a weapon, so I'm interested to see how you're going to manage  _ that _ one."

"Oh ye of little faith," I switch to a more smug look, leaning back a bit so I can properly stare down at him like royalty. "And who says I meant you, anyways? Maybe I intend to be the one who won't be around for our next meeting."

He pales at that, looks  _ genuinely _ concerned, and I can't help my heart from skipping a beat as guilt rolls in. God  _ damnit, _ I'm  _ not _ getting guilty over some stupid chucklefuck I don't even  _ know _ just because he's some kind of, fucking, teenage heartthrob. Useless stupid dumb bitch.

"Don't worry, that was a lie," I say, before I can stop myself. "I plan on being around for a  _ looong _ time yet. It's you we'll be killing."

"Oh, how unfortunate," he says, nonchalantly,  _ smiling, _ why won't he take me  _ seriously _ when I threaten him, "I was always sorta hoping to die to an elephant stampede, but there aren't even any here."

I laugh. Before I realize what I'm doing, I'm laughing. Not a little laugh, either, a gigantic one, borderline hysterical. I wanna stop myself, but I can't, my chest heaving without my permission. This is just so, fucking, unbelievable! This guy, maybe one of my  _ fucking _ captors, or maybe someone else who's stuck here like me, getting assaulted by someone he doesn't even  _ know,  _ at my mercy and he's just - so -  _ casual _ about it! This was life or death for me! Why doesn't he care!?

"Hey," he says when my  _ stupid uncontrollable _ laughter finally dies down, "I get it. Waking up somewhere unfamiliar, no memories, some rando chasing you down, I would get scared too."

"I'm not scared." I say, and it's not a lie. It's  _ not. _ You can tell by my face. I'm  _ in control. _

His visible eye fixes on mine, and his smile fades. "You should be."

"Of you?"

"Of everything."

…

I let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's Kokichi!!! He's here!!! Fucking finally!! Another regular viewpoint character!!! fortunately he and rantaro are going to be fucking inseparable from here on in. unfortunately he and rantaro are going to be fucking inseparable from here on in.
> 
> so when i started writing kokichi waking up, like. you have to understand directionless kokichi without a purpose is just a very potent force. For writing him I just completely unlatched my ADHD and i was like "just go. you have free rein. take it where you want." and then it just did and that's. that's where we're at.
> 
> My favorite part about kokichi rambling is that he sometimes inadvertently taps on true things/things that have happened but he has absolutely no memory of them so he can't even sort out what his stream of consciousness is basing on reality or not
> 
> While I was trying to mind my own business Ouma elected to hit me over the head with the fact that he is trans in this fic and he will not accept any substitutes. He's had top surgery but he still gets kinda weird about seeing his own bare chest.
> 
> For extra fun: don't think he's REALIZED he's trans yet. Sometimes you just forget! Especially when you forget your entire life up to this point.
> 
> kaito's body spray habit is my most powerful headcanon and i absolutely insist on it. any time he shows up. kokichi will riot but he deserves this for his crimes and im not budging on it
> 
> it's. possible ouma might have an unresolved issue. one or two. maybe.
> 
> ouma when he's fucking around with nothing in particular that needs doing and ouma when he's trying to survive are two VERY different people and god help you if you mistake one for the other because it's your head if you do
> 
> ouma: im cis  
> also ouma: heehee voice deep
> 
> this chapter ends a bit abruptly but GOD it was already getting SO long, we'll get more into why ouma did what he did at the end next time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi gets familiar with his surroundings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for kokichi and miu existing in a room together.

Amami Rantaro.

He offers me a small smile - fake, fake, fake - as he talks about himself, about how he woke up here, what he remembers about himself, a penchant for traveling, a variety of skills he's picked up, some of his interests. We stand right next to this staircase, unmoving, because it was my conditional for going along with whatever it is he wants to show me, he wants to talk about.

I need the measure of the man in front of me first.

I'm quiet as he speaks, nodding along when conversationally acceptable, picking up… most of what he's saying. His voice helps. It's easy to listen along with. What I'm  _ actually _ "listening" to is his facial expressions, the way he speaks. Tics, movements of the eyes, what each smile  _ means _ for him.

And when I watch his eyes, I know he  _ knows. _ He knows why I asked for him to tell me about himself. Going along with it is an olive branch for me, the same as when he let that smiling mask of his drop and showed me his true colors.

I saw it, then, for just long enough, who he  _ really _ is underneath that grin. Amami Rantaro, a man who would be suspicious of god himself if he met him. A man who would burn down hell if it meant escaping it alive. A man who would put another to death without hesitation if that was what it took to keep himself safe.

Amami Rantaro, a survivor, down to his very core.

And I'd smiled at that, let go of his hands, stepped off him, for one very important reason.

We're the same, he and I. Knowing that he feels the same as I do means that the ways he might betray me become more predictable - more understandable. 

Having someone else here to work through things benefits him, too. He gets a second pair of hands - it's  _ hard _ to get everything you need done with just one, sometimes - along with another pair of eyes and ears and a  _ damn _ fine brain if I do say so myself. And knowing that he only cares about me in the sense that it helps him makes things easier. I can keep my distance without having to worry about bullshit like friendship or whatever.

Maybe in another time, another place, where the threat of this place and whatever's happening isn't hanging over us. But here? Now? No, never.

"So, are you satisfied, Ouma?" Amami asks me with an easy smile -  _ such _ an easy smile.

I didn't give him my personal name, only my family name. Here, in the confines of my own mind, I'll freely admit - it was a spite move, and nothing else. I just wanted power, any kind of power I could grasp at, and that's what I found.

As we can all see, I'm not feeling stupid about it in the  _ slightest. _

But Ouma Kokichi has no  _ time _ for regrets. I smirk real big at Amami. "Always am, thanks. So what did you want to share?"

And so he talks. He tells me about grey ghosts and mental disconnects (can't say I've noticed, but maybe I'm not tired yet), about sleep and death. He talks about a place called the End, somewhere only he can see the entrance to, as far as he can tell.

Well. I can't say I'm not suspicious, but I think we'll get plenty of time to verify Amami's claims, one way or the other.

First he takes me to visit some of his "friends," if they can be called that. The first one we visit is someone named Akamatsu, fell asleep playing piano and her hands stayed like that. Tragic or whatever. I didn't know her, so I hope he doesn't expect me to shed many tears. I'm saving those for when I need to pull off a  _ real _ good lie.

...Part of me can't help but wonder why, legitimately, I'm like this. Hell of a package deal, you're smart as hell and king of the world but also a pathological liar for some reason.

The rest of me is too busy stomping all over this piano to care.

Amami gives me a Look (trademark) as I walk back over to him, and I just shrug. "I was hoping to see if I could wake her up! I bet you didn't try  _ that _ method, did you?"

He pops a finger out of his ear, staring impassively at me. "Somehow, rupturing my eardrums didn't strike me as a solution, no."

The next one he shows me is apparently the newest, but they're only a floor up so it's close by. There are a few butterflies on the door, and I get the feeling I'm not going to be a fan of this room.

My breath hitches when he opens it.

"Who is he?" the words fall out of my mouth.

"His name is Gokuhara Gonta."

"Gonta."

My legs bring me, in stiff, uneasy motions, over, standing next to him.

"Hey there, big guy," I hear my voice speak in a tone I don't like. What's happening? "Show me one?"

He immediately pulls out one of the bugs he's been fussing with - oh god  _ why did I ask that _ \- and brings it forward into my face, so gently I'm even more upset. I feel my lips pulling up so far it hurts.

"H-he's cute!" I say, strained. "Got any m-more?"

He puts away the beetle and brings out a butterfly, a mantis, bug, bug, bug, bug, until I can't  _ fucking _ take it anymore, and in even stiffer motions I bolt out of the room, leaning against the wall for support. I heave big breaths, in and out.

Amami follows me through the door casually, making a big show of closing the doors. "That was interesting. He was still asleep, but he was much more responsive with you than any of the other ones have been with me… or anyone."

I just nod, not trusting my voice at the moment.

"I didn't know you were a bug fan, Ouma," Rantaro raises an eyebrow at me.

"Oh,  _ yeah, _ that's  _ meeee! _ " I can hear the hysteria in my tone and I  _ hate _ it. "I just  _ loooooove _ bugs!"

He doesn't even blink. "Then why did you ask him to show you them?"

"Oh, you got me!" The words spill out. "I'm a closet masochist and being filled with terror in every ounce of my being is what  _ really _ gets my rocks off."

Amami says nothing, just staring at me, waiting.

I close my eyes, whisper the truth under my breath.

"I don't  _ know _ ."

He's more excited about showing me the others after that. There's a spring in his step, something that was missing before. It's interesting, but also annoying, because I feel like I have an expectation to live up to now and I don't even know what I  _ did _ with the last one. He leads me up another floor, shows me some guy in a fucking bondage mask - deadass, zipper and all - rifling through smelly old books. Amami's especially interested to see what insight I have about this guy because he never managed to catch his name, but aside from the fact that he's obviously a  _ fucking freak, _ I can't really tell Amami anything.

Then he takes me to see someone named Angie, and I still can't tell him anything. I don't know why he expects me to tell him things. I couldn't even tell him anything about Gonta.

Most of the wind has been knocked out of Amami's sails by the time we get back downstairs, to see the maid. She's made a lot of food, which is just sitting here, on the dining table, nobody to eat it. I steal a skewer out of curiosity and pluck some meat off it. Amami raises an eyebrow.

"What? Iff good," I shrug, food still in my mouth.

Tojo isn't particularly interesting. Momcore, I guess, but nothing """special""" happens or anything like Amami's looking for. So we move on.

Hoshi? Don't care. Chabashira? Looks like a bitch. Also, don't care.

Then he takes me to a lab with someone he calls Iruma Miu. She's as asleep as the rest of them, just tinkering with something.

It's… it's not the  _ same _ as with Gonta. But.

"I think I  _ might _ be able to do something here," I tell Amami, and he practically beams at me, "just bear with me a sec."

I walk up to her, standing across from her seat at her inventor's desk where she's working away.

"Hey!" I shout, brain running on instinct. "What kind of stupid whore pig sits around sleeping like this when there's  _ work _ to be done?"

"Ouma!?" Rantaro gapes, but I just wave him off. This feels right.

She squeals, the word "p-pig!?" stutters out of her lips as a bit of life comes to her gray skin.

"Well you definitely squeal like one!" I laugh. "But maybe I got the wrong barnyard animal. Those are more cow udders, aren't they?"

"Sh-shut up!" She whimpers, eyes blinking as a bit of bluish color comes back to them. "What's some virgin shota got that I don't anyways!?"

I grin. Something about this is familiar. "A spine, for starters, you ugly bitchlet."

"Bitchlet…?" Miu's whole face goes red.

I pause and sigh. It was fun, but there's a point to this. "Wake up, Miu."

"I'm so tired…" She blinks, eyes trying to focus on me.

I snap in front of her face. "Hey, hey! Don't tell me you're gonna go soft on me now."

"...No, that's you…" she murmurs, eyes closing again.

"Damnit," I scoff, loudly.

Amami puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder, which nearly scares me out of my skin. "You did good. Not the method I would have used, but hey, it worked."

I shake my head. "Not well enough, obviously."

"Don't worry about it," he shrugs. "I'm more interested to know how you knew what to say to her."

"Oh,  _ that, _ " I smirk. It was just a gut feeling, I think, but that's not what I say. "Didn't I tell you? I'm the mastermind responsible for organizing this whole thing, so of  _ course _ I know everybody, and I kept all my memories. I'm just yanking you around for fun."

His smile fades, and he pauses, staring at me for just a little bit too long. "That's a joke, right." His voice doesn't carry any of the warmth it usually does.

That one might have been a little far. Noted. At least now I know how to push his buttons.

I wink. "Ya got me. I dunno, it just happened."

"Mm." He folds his arms, lips curling back up a bit, but I'd hardly call it a smile. "Don't joke about that next time. Got it?"

"Awww, you're no fun," I pout at him. He doesn't change his expression, and I sigh. " _ Fiiiiiiiiine. _ "

He doesn't bother to respond after that, heading outside. I follow after him.

"So where are we go-" I stop talking because he's stopped moving, and as a result of the second thing my face collides with his back.

I'm about to say something when I move my head to the side, and see what has him stopped. There's some dude walking up the stairs from the fountain right now. Amami starts sprinting forward, and I follow after him.

When we get closer, when I see his jacket, I realize the truth. The awful, awful truth.

This is the fucking  _ body spray guy. _

"Hey!" Amami shouts, waving as he runs. "Hey!"

The man stops by the stairway for a second, giving Amami a look before running our way. We meet up in the middle of the area.

"Uh, hi there," he speaks in a deep voice, clears his throat, "I take it you guys are in the same boat I am?"

He's tall. He has a  _ goatee. _ He's wearing  _ bathroom slippers _ and  _ three layers _ . His hair looks like a bird's nest met a skateboarding ramp. His taste in "cologne" is compromised beyond belief.

There's nothing about this man I like.

"More or less," Amami nods. "We've been here a bit longer than you, though, and we've picked up a trick or two along the way." He reaches out his hand. "Amami Rantaro."

Body spray guy eagerly takes it up in his own, shaking just a little bit too hard. Okay, that's a lie, that was a lot bit too hard. "Momota Kaito, Luminary of the Stars!" He pauses, before withdrawing his hand and rubbing his head. "...Whatever that means."

I grin. "I'm gonna call you Axe!"

"What? Why!?" Holy  _ shit _ he makes the absolute best faces when you fuck with him.  _ Finally _ a redeeming character trait.

I put my fingers up to plug my nose. "Because you reek of it," I say, in a funny-sounding voice. I can't actually smell it from this distance, but I know this to be true beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"I do  _ not! _ " Momota yells, before pausing to smell himself. Absolutely iconic. "I don't!"

"One way to find that out!" I spring forward like a cat, seizing on his coat's free dangling arm (a terrible idea, really, it's like giving yourself a handle) and running around him, pulling on the other arm.

"Hey!  _ Hey! _ Hands off the merchandise!" Momota shouts, seizing hold of the arm that's barely still on him with his spare hand.

"We need an impartial third party to judge, and what better to judge with than this smelly jacket of yours?"

Momota growls at me. "Quit screwing around, Ouma!"

My grip on the jacket slips. I glance at Amami, who shares the look with me.

I never introduced myself to Momota.

Momota's eyes widen as he realizes. "Oh, wait, that's not your name, is it? Sorry, you just kinda reminded me of someone, I think."

I snatch the jacket from him while he's speaking, turning fully so it's not within grabbing range as I run up to Amami. I turn my head back, though, to respond. "That's right. And as punishment for your crimes, I'm taking your jacket."

"Ouma-" Amami starts.

"Wait, your name  _ is _ Ouma!?" Momota yells, not because that needed yelling, I assume, so much as because he doesn't have an indoor voice.

I roll my eyes. "I'll give it back, just be the judge. Does this coat smell too much like body spray?"

Amami hesitantly grabs the jacket from me and lifts it up to his face for a moment. "I don't… smell anything?"

" _ Bullshit, _ " I say, grabbing it back from him and giving it a good sniff. I get so much body spray smell that I legitimately get into a coughing fit, I can't take it. "Oh my  _ god _ Amami, you're joking, right?"

Amami takes it again and presses the whole thing against his face for a minute. "I can…  _ sort of _ smell it, I think?"

" _ See, _ that's a point in my favor," I snap, taking the jacket, rolling it into a ball and tossing it behind my back generally in Momota's direction. I think I hear it hit the ground.

"So was there a point to this?" Amami asks as I hear clothes shuffling sounds behind me.

I shrug. "I craved validation."

Momota sighs loudly. "If you two clowns are done, I think I'm gonna get some rest over there." He presumably gestures in some direction, but I'm not looking at him, so it doesn't mean much. He makes a yawning sound as he goes.

"Wait-" alarm spreads across Amami's features, "wait! Hey, wait!"

He runs off after Momota, and I turn and watch them go. Whatever. It doesn't matter anyways. I have better things to do than look after those two.

…

I don't have anything better to do.

_ Goddamnit. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so i just feel the need to start off by saying that neither of my viewpoint characters right now are infallible and both of them can be kind of moronic about different things and the first person narrative is not even going to begin to correct them. so. bear with that i guess.
> 
> SO. GONTA HUH
> 
> yeah ouma isnt it WEIRD how someone might be UPSET when you claim to be THE ONE RESPONSIBLE FOR THEIR IMPRISONMENT. REAL WEIRD. DIDNT EXPECT THAT ONE HUH. i love ouma which is why i'm ready to dunk him into a trash can at a moment's notice for being a complete shithead.
> 
> [gasps] BODY SPRAY GUY. IT'S Him.
> 
> the narration would like to apologize to kaito fans everywhere for ouma's treatment of him but it was inevitable really. ALSO IM SORRY ABOUT KAITO GETTING WRITTEN OUT SO QUICK BUT I WAS TRYING TO PLOT AROUND HIM EXISTING FOR A LONGER PERIOD AND HE JUST... COMPLICATED THE NARRATIVE IMMENSELY. Rantaro would have literally died (again) trying to balance him and ouma in the same room. So nap time for him sorry kaito its for the good of the story


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rantaro introduces Kokichi to the End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dunno if anyone needs this, but cw for realistic depiction of overstimulation

I did what I could for Momota, but it wasn't much. It wasn't much at all.

In front of me, Kaito, already graying out, gazes idly at the clouds above, arms behind his head. I tried to get him to stop, but he wouldn't really. At first I was afraid it was Ouma's fault, but I don't think so now. He was just… ready to sleep, in a way I hadn't expected. At peace, kind of like Hoshi was. I look at Ouma, still as full of energy as he was when I found him.

"What about you and him are different?" I ask aloud, mostly mulling it over myself.

Ouma's face blanks, which I've taken as a sign that he is feeling some manner of genuine emotion. He's not the sort to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he has his tells once you get used to him.

...And boy, does he take some getting used to.

Near as I can tell, Ouma's primarily driven by two potent emotions: boredom, and fear. As long as you keep him safe and entertained, there's no worry, but… there's the rub, of course, because that's basically impossible. Especially here. 

I like to think I'm a pretty unflappable person, so the fact that he's managed to get under  _ my _ skin a few times already is actually a little impressive? I almost wrung his neck when he joked about being the mastermind.  _ Why _ would you  _ do _ that.

But. Despite everything, there's something underneath his abrasive surface. I could see it when we first met - the fear obvious in his actions if not his words. And I could see it when he tried to help Gokuhara and Iruma. I just don't get why he insists on hiding it every chance he gets.

"Maybe it's because I'm gay," Ouma says, smiling widely, "and this place is heterophobic. Because like. This guy's the straightest man I've ever met. I'm right, right?"

I snort, which is a mistake, because that's just going to encourage him. "Is this about the body spray thing again?"

" _ Listen, _ " he gestures exaggeratedly with his hands, " _ no one _ who puts  _ that much _ body spray on is  _ not _ straight."

"Maybe it's a cover." I shrug. "Camouflage."

Ouma makes a loud  _ tsk _ ing sound. "Nope!  _ Nooooo _ way. No. I'm afraid I cannot accept him into my gay ranks, not after he committed the crime of  _ being _ rank."

I raise an eyebrow. "...Bi?"

He pauses. "...Bi."

I laugh. I can't help it. This - this  _ entire conversation _ is  _ so stupid. _ Ouma doesn't laugh with me, but the smile on his face is milder than usual, which I take to mean a little more genuine than usual.

He waits until I'm done before he asks his next question. "Okay, so what next?"

"Well…" I put a finger up to my chin. "I think it's about time we get around to finding the End."

It only occurs to me as we're walking how much the static in my head feels far away while I'm walking next to Ouma. It's probably not- no, almost definitely not intentional on his part. But somehow, me being so busy thinking about him, trying to predict what he'll do next, deal with his latest opaque train of thought… it's done a lot to help me.

I only notice this now because Ouma's gotten quieter as we're searching for the End's latest hiding spot, and it's all starting to come back to me with that.

"Are you okay?" I ask him. He's tired, I'm already convinced, but not so tired that it seems to be seriously impairing him.

"Huh?" he asks, blinking. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine," he says, after a moment. It doesn't do much to calm my own fears, but he's still walking fine, and he hasn't shown any signs of needing immediate aid.

And with the amount of ground we've covered (for a second time in however long), it should be here soon.

Ah, here we are. Fifth floor, of course. It lives to spite me.

Ouma's eyes narrow as we enter into the space. "Whose room is this…?" He mumbles to himself.

I offer the space another glance, leaving aside the hole. It just looks like a sitting room to me, a few chairs, a desk and a rocker along with a shelf full of papers and a cabinet full of vials.

"These aren't the dormitories, Ouma," I say.

"Not like  _ that, _ moron," he snaps, and I'm relieved there's enough wakefulness left in him  _ to _ snap. "Just… I thought these were…" he mouths something to himself before turning back to me. "Probably just my imagination."

I give him a dark look. "Oh, I rather doubt that."

He winks at me, pulling his arms up behind his head. "O-kayyyyy! So your world ender machine is hidden in this room, Amami? Show me, show me!"

...So it's gonna be like  _ that, _ huh.

I ignore Ouma for the moment, walking right up to the hole and sticking my hand in it for dramatic effect. He gasps and gapes all faux surprise (I think).

"Okay, now, what you  _ really _ need to do," he says, eyes all lit up, "is grab the sides of the hole and  _ swing _ your legs in. It'll look  _ so cool, _ like you don't even  _ have _ legs! Bisected Amami!"

I look at the hole, then back at Ouma. "...I don't even know if I  _ can _ grab it."

"Well, one way to find out, right?" His deeper voice cuts through the air. He sticks a finger to his lips, smiling.

...I guess.

I reach around to the side of the hole. It's very flat, so it's not hard to grab it on the back side, at least. To my surprise, I really can get a grip on it, though it's a bit awkward at the angle I have to grip from. I don't struggle to grab on the other side, though - the hole's just wide enough that I can grip on both ends. Experimentally, I try and lift off the ground, just using my grip on the hole for support.

...It works. Damn.

I spare a glance at Ouma. His blank face quickly turns to a too-wide smirk. He balls his fists up, raising them next to his head. "Go for the gold, Amami! You've got this."

I roll my eyes, but still lift off, and with a bit of effort, send my legs and waist into the hole. The rest of me lingers kind of awkwardly around the bottom of the hole, my head rolling back so I'm looking at Ouma upside-down. It's a little dizzying, but (I think) he's excited, if the fingers-in-mouth whistle, clapping, and actual tears are anything to go by.

I pull myself out of the hole. Ouma pulls a black and white checkered handkerchief from somewhere and blows his nose in it. I just scoff at him.

"Well! Thanks for the info, Amami," Ouma pulls the (dry) handkerchief down to his hands, folds it, and puts it back away. "I think I have a plan now."

"A  _ what? _ " I can't help but say, and his gigantic grin makes me feel like a mouse who's sprung a trap.

Ouma gives me a look like I'm stupid. "Alright, so lemme break this down  _ real _ simple. Only you can see the hole and that's not changing, right? Other people can interact with it and the space beyond it, but only while in contact with you, right?"

I nod.

He's about to keep going, but he stops for a second. "Hey, does it have to be skin to skin contact or do you just have to be in some kind of contact?"

I wave Ouma over, grab him by the sleeve and gesture his hand into the hole. Sure enough, it goes in just fine.

"Nice, okay." He pulls his hand away, and I don't move to stop it. "That makes things a little less awkward."

...What does he even have in mind?

Ouma brings a finger up to his lips, grinning. "So!  _ You _ want me to go into this hole that I can't see or verify the contents on the other side of.  _ I _ want to be able to get a good idea of what I'm agreeing to before I do it. And now I have something to satisfy both parties."

"And what's that?" I can't help but notice my brow furrowing. Whatever this is about, it does not sound  _ simple. _

"Oh, it couldn't be easier! All you gotta do is guide my hands to both sides of the hole - so I can grip it like you just did - and keep in contact with me while I poke my head in for a little look-see."

… "Why the grip?"

The finger that was in front of his lips is now wagging in front of my face. " _ Because, _ stupid, it gives me  _ insurance _ if you try and shove me into the hole against my will. And if you stop touching me directly while I'm looking, then I'll just fall out and everything will be fine." He laughs a long, maniacal laugh. "It's foolproof, Amami!"

...I'm  _ pretty sure _ if I was dedicated, I could probably get Ouma's tiny body into that hole, grip or no grip. But that's not exactly going to help my case here, is it.

"Alright, so you just want me to help you grip the sides of it so you can poke your head in?" I ask.

He turns his head enough that I can see his grinning face. "So you  _ are _ capable of understanding basic directions! I'm  _ so _ proud of you, Amami."

I roll my eyes, which I feel is going to become much more common as long as I'm dealing with Ouma. He just lets out a little giggle in response.

I move my hand over to his first one, adjusting the grip. Not by as much as I'd expected, though - he'd managed to put his hands almost exactly on the hole, only an inch or two off. I couldn't help but chance a look at him, impressed. He must have some  _ damn _ good spatial reasoning.

He just watches me place his hand in silence, eyebrows knit slightly together.

"Like that, then," he murmurs, barely audible, and I watch as his other hand grips tight on an object he can't even  _ see. _ He looks up at me and his eyebrows raise. "That look good, Amami?"

Keeping a hand on his wrist, I lean over him. His hand looks… yeah, it looks just fine. I lean back and nod.

He snaps his head up at me from the floor and grins. "Kayyy! I'm gonna pop my head in now."

Leaning forward, Ouma shoves his head, neck, and a bit of his shoulders into the End. They're stuck in there for a decent length of time, longer than I'd expected, before finally he emerges.

"Amami!" He scowls at me, clearly upset just from tone. "You didn't say you'd left your assassins lying in wait in there!"

...That's a lie, right?

" _ Buuuut _ that's a lie," he grins. "It looks safe in there! Weird, but safe. I'm ready when you are."

I nod. "I'm good to go. Do you want to lead the way?"

Ouma makes a little shrugging motion. "May as well." He shoves one arm in, steps through - no, he tries, he misses the hole, oh my god, his legs are so  _ short. _ He gives me a sharp look before recovering, making a  _ bigger _ stride, and actually making it through this time. I follow in after him.

Same End, same End. Business as usual for me, really, I'll just have to mind myself and keep an eye on Ouma as much as I can to make sure he adjusts okay to this. We should keep in contact for now, since I have no idea what will happen if we don't-

He  _ snaps _ his wrist away from my grip. Okay?? I guess we could do that too. He still seems to be here and fine enough, so I guess it doesn't matter too much once we're both inside.

I step around Ouma, sitting myself down on one side of the "room," such as it is. My gaze flicks up to him, and I take in a sharp gasp of air.

The widest, most manic smile I've ever seen graces his face, carving into his cheeks like knives. Genuinely, it looks like something that would hurt. A lot. His hands are balled up into fists.

"...Are you alright, Ouma?"

"Me?" He asks, voice devoid of tone. He doesn't even look at me. "Oh, I'm fine. I'm just fine."

"Are you sure?"

His hands shake. "Why wouldn't I be?" He closes his eyes and tilts his head in my direction. "It's not my fault if Amami is a stupid moron who sees things that aren't there."

I blink. That was a bit sudden. I don't even have it in me to be upset at the barb, though, I'm just worried - it's not even subtle about hiding how he  _ really _ feels beneath that. It's just not Ouma. Before I know it, I'm standing up next to him, my hand on his shoulder. "Listen-"

He slaps my hand away, face 180'd into a frowning glare immediately. " _ Don't touch me! _ " He  _ shouts. _

"Sorry," I step back, "I just wanted-"

"Stop  _ talking, _ " he snaps, eyes stapled shut. He's practically vibrating in place. Was  _ I _ this bad the first time I got here? I… guess I wouldn't know.

...I'm trying to listen to him, but as it turns out, your brain running in overdrive combined with the only thing you can focus on being the other person in the room makes shutting up difficult.

I don't think I even last a minute before I break silence. "You know, we can leave for now if you like-"

The sound he makes isn't even words. It's a cross between a growl and a yell as his eyes, bloodshot, open wide at me. He doesn't speak as that gigantic grin drapes over his face again. 

I'm frozen. I don't know what to do. I have to do something. I can't do anything.

_ I just want to help. _

Eventually, finally, in the blink of an eye, after an eternity, he turns and darts out of the hole, back to the school. I drop to the floor like a puppet with their strings cut, sighing into the ground and letting out all the tension that had built.

I have to go after him. I do. But for a moment, at least, I stay sitting here.

Just… one minute alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouma: hmm this seems relevant  
> Ouma: better not mention it or say anything useful!!
> 
> I'm extremely proud of ouma getting rantaro to tell him something he needed to know by asking it in the most stupid, elaborately obtuse way possible. And i cry because if you ask rantaro to do something stupid? and it doesn't hurt anybody? He will probably do it. He's just that kind of guy. 
> 
> ouma: here is my elaborate plan  
> rantaro [internally]: sounds stupid  
> rantaro [externally]: seems legitimate
> 
> ouma strikes me as the kind of person to smile on instinct when he's genuinely under extreme duress so that's what i'm doing with him here. he's, uh, he's having a time.
> 
> So THAT happened uhhh sorry for that cliffhanger ill try and be sure to upload next chapter tomorrow so yall dont suffer unduly


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouma needs a little bit of time to recover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cws, cws, uhhh, there's a porn mention, nothin major abt that. I think that's about it? lmk if theres something i missed and ill put it up here

_ creeeeeak _

_ creeeeeak _

I just let the rock of the chair and my legs' insistent movement do their thing for a little while and let my brain unspin.

I felt - feel? - am feeling electrified, like every nerve in my body is going to combust, like everything's on fire. I feel like a lightbulb that someone plugged into a jet engine, sparking, smoking, glass about to shatter.

If Rantaro felt that way, he sure didn't  _ show it. _ So what's wrong with  _ me? _

Enough. Enough. He could come out any time. Don't do this, don't do this, don't-

I lean back in the rocking chair, hand over my face, turned to the side, trying and failing to hide my tears.

…

It  _ smells _ like him.

The chair. It smells like him. Who? Couldn't  _ fucking _ tell you. But he probably spent hours here, looking over those files, rocking, thinking, coffee sitting on the table. That puzzled look on his face. This was his room. I know it.

Who gave this place the right to remind me of him? I don't even  _ know _ him.

But I think about him, someone I can't remember, think about a face I can't see smiling at me, a voice I can't hear laughing at something I said, close my eyes, smell his smell, and

I

feel a little better.

I just keep my eyes closed, rock in the chair, and breathe in his scent. This quiet will break soon, but for now it's everything I've ever needed.

…

After too long, a tenseness of expectation in the air that never lets up, I finally hear the sound of one shoe and then another scuff against the floor. I spring up from the rocking chair, opening my eyes wide at Amami Rantaro.

I tilt my head at him. "Hey  _ Amamiiiii, _ what took you so long? I've been out here so long I thought I was gonna die of boredom! I very nearly did!"

His expression doesn't change. Still that same stoic, small frown. Irritating. "Ouma. Are you alright?"

I pause - not because I need one, I've had this planned since the minute I got out of that place. I tilt my head in the other direction, my eyebrows flutter slightly down, a small frown on my face. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seemed like you were having some kind of attack." He says. Nothing in his face changes. Hard to believe he lives like that.

"Oh," I speak, pause, brow furrows a bit more, cut to smiling. " _ That? _ " Low tone. Bigger. "You fell for a little lie like that? Really. I didn't take you for the gullible type, Amami."

He does change his expression this time, his eyebrows arching down on his face. He doubts me. That's fine, good even. Doubt means he's not completely sure I'm lying. Which means part of him believes this could be true. Which means what I'm doing is working.

He looks away. I guess he doesn't want to talk about it anymore. In a way, that's almost disappointing. I had way more material planned for if he'd kept pressing.

I let my face switch to something childish, excitable. "Hey, hey hey  _ hey! _ Amami!" I say, catching his attention. "What are we gonna do  _ now? _ We visited your End place, saw everyone else, now what?"

His face droops. "...I dunno. Judging by the pattern up to now," what pattern, "we have a while before the next people show up. I want to find the End again so we don't have to go frantic over it later, but that aside we can do basically whatever, really."

"Pattern?" I interject as soon as I have the opportunity.

His face brightens. "Oh, right, that. I didn't mention, did I? You've probably guessed, but nobody came here all at once. The way it's gone, far as I can tell, is like this: someone wakes up somewhere in the school, then a few hours later, someone wakes up nearby the fountain. Then a few days pass, and someone wakes up in some random place in the school, and it repeats. The only time that pattern broke was when Angie and then Chabashira showed up in quick succession around the school, followed by… the one whose name I still don't know."

Wait-

"You first, then Akamatsu," I start rattling off names, "then Hoshi, then Tojo? Then Angie, then Chabashira, then the freak show, then Iruma, then Gonta." I look up at him, then. "Then me, then Momota?"

Amami's face darkens. "How do you know that."

...Uh-oh. I might have miscalculated here.

I grin. "Lucky guess?"

"No."

I wag my finger at him. "Sorry, Amami, we're going to have to be Level 2 Friends before I reveal  _ that _ juicy secret! Until then, you'll just have to trust me."

"What is the  _ point _ of that?" Anger seeps into his voice. I'm probably pushing his buttons too hard, but… I didn't mean to  _ reveal _ I had another source of info, and I'm protecting it closely until I can make sure Amami is safe.

I sigh, maintain steady eye contact with Amami. Put on a scolding face. "The  _ point, _ Amami, is when was the last time you took a  _ break? _ Don't you think you can put aside work work work work  _ work _ for  _ five minutes _ and do something  _ fun? _ "

In truth, I would rather get to the bottom of this right now, too, but sharing information probably isn't going to get us there. Nothing in anything I've seen has implied that there's any way out of here, and I've been looking, and I  _ know _ Amami's been looking. Until we know  _ who _ has us here and  _ why, _ any efforts to escape are probably worthless, and trying to understand the process, while helpful, doesn't guarantee figuring out either.

Also Amami looks like the kind of guy who would work himself into the ground for a nickel and a pat on the back. Time for some carefully engineered Not That time.

I grip Amami's wrist with both hands and pull gently on his arm. " _ C'monnn, _ let's go down to the A/V room and watch a movie or something."

He doesn't quite stop glaring at me, but he does stop frowning and lets me drag him out of the room, so it's something.

(He still insists on checking every room we pass for the End, though. He finds it in one of the classrooms right before we hit the basement.)

The A/V room is a little dingy, smells like stale air, I slap the middle sofa a good few times to ditch the initial layer of dust but god, now it's  _ in the air, _ I don't like this place very much. Reminds me too much of-

…

Mm. Wish I knew!

I flop out on the couch, sprawling across the left half of it. "Amamiiiii, is there any incense in this place?"

He raises an eyebrow. "You didn't strike me as the incense type."

"Moi?" I put a hand across my heart. "Oh,  _ extremely. _ I can't function in a room if nothing's burning inside of it." I grin devilishly, my voice going lower. "So if there's no incense, I have to get  _ creative... _ "

He doesn't laugh - probably still in a bad mood - but he does crack a small half-smile at that. "Well, can't have  _ that. _ Wanna go check the warehouse?"

I put my arms behind my head, tucked up against the arm of the chair. "You go check, peon! I'll pick the movie while you're gone."

He pauses for about four and a half seconds too long, his face and posture tightening, before he forces himself to relax. "Okay," he says, in a 'relaxed' tone that's just as forced, "I'll be right back."

What, pray tell the fuck, was  _ that _ about?

I start skimming movies while he's gone. Dumb, don't like the title, porn, more porn, why is there so much porn in this shelf - oh I'm in the porn section.

I guess if you're making a school and intending Iruma to be there, this is a necessity.

I skip to another shelf and keep filtering through. Bad, what the hell is this summary, who would watch this, who would  _ write _ this, ugh I'm bored let's just pick something already.

I pull a title out at random. It's some animated film about a boy who gets separated from his parents and his sister and has to go through trials to find and save them.

Insipid.

Amami will probably love it.

I pop the movie into the player, pull down the projector, grab the remote, and get myself "situated" in my seat - I won't be properly situated until Amami's back and I can nudge against him because a human being feels so much less awful than dusty leather, but for now this is fine.

I fiddle with the settings until I've got the movie ready to play. I put on subtitles because I'm not a monster, get the volume up to a socially acceptable level, watch the intro blurb so much I've memorized it and could replicate the sound along with the poses of the characters through a few of the scenes if so desired.

My thoughts wander.

Who  _ is _ he, who was he to me? I don't know  _ anything _ about him, but he's all I can think about. I feel like there are things I know about him, hovering on the periphery of my thoughts, but every time I try and grasp at them they slip further out of reach. It's only when I stop thinking and I let my consciousness drift that I feel like there are things I can grasp, and even so, they're so much  _ hazier _ than they were just half an hour ago when I was recovering in his room. The smell of coffee, tired eye bags that made me want to push him back into his room, a weak, soft smile.

His  _ name. _ What was his  _ name!? _

"You good to go, or are you just gonna keep flipping the remote like it's a fidget spinner?" I hear Amami's voice and snap out of my thoughts and back into reality. He's sat down next to me, leaning back in that socially acceptable relaxed pose, one arm draped across the back of the couch.

"I can do both," I narrow my eyes at him. I'm upset I didn't notice I was doing it, but I guess it doesn't particularly matter if nobody was around to see it. I must have been more deeply absorbed than I'd thought.

...No, it's still bugging me.

I press play on the goddamn video.

"This looks nice," Amami says, presumably having watched the same introductory scene like five times already from my vague knowledge of time's passage. Glad to see I wasn't wrong and insipid  _ is _ in fact his taste in movies.

"Yep!" I wink, swapping positions so I can lean against him in an extremely heterosexual way. "I sure know how to pick 'em, don't I."

"This doesn't seem like your kind of film, actually." The opening credits are still playing, and I'm already not paying attention. So not an unfair read of me.

"No, no, that's my secret! I'm a  _ total _ sap for mushy shit like this."

"Mm-hm." Amami hums, but judging by his slight smile, he doesn't believe me. That or he thinks it's really endearing to imagine that I'm secretly into mushy shit like this, which is equally the wrong thing to think. Really, that whole lie was poorly thought out at best.

"But that was a lie. I just thought you would like it."

SHIT that was the TRUTH  _ ABORT _

"Really." His smile just gets bigger and I  _ don't _ appreciate that.

"Yes! It's all part of my elaborate plan to lure you closer so I can betray you at the last minute, obviously." I puff up and smile like I'm telling a lie, but it may well be the truth, depending on what happens.

This partnership is cute and all, and Amami's been enough of a diversion, but I'm fully prepared to cut and run the moment it becomes necessary. Until then, I'm just enjoying myself playing around with him. No harm in it.

...Right?

Right.

But he just says "Of course," like he doesn't believe me (good), and the movie starts properly, and he starts paying attention to that which gives me the excuse to zone out and just do whatever for the next two hours, which I'll take.

...But what does the order  _ mean, _ though. Why Amami first? Why me second to last? Why  _ second _ to last? That's so… asymmetrical. Well it probably wasn't my choice so I don't know why I'm so upset about it. What's the significance of where they all appeared? I'll have to ask, I only know myself and Momota, and I guess all the people on the right must have been fountain appearances but  _ why _ … 

...I think I want to do a shaving cream prank at some point. It's so versatile, and I've always hated shaving cream because I cannot grow facial hair to save my  _ life. _ I should shave off Momota's goatee, if Amami will let me get away with it, or if I can get away from him for long enough that it doesn't matter if he'll let me get away with it. He'll thank me later when the girls are falling all over his straight ass…

...This movie would be better if _he_ were here…

...I don't get why people are so hung up on stupid parents anyways. Somebody pops you out of their fleshbag and you'd think that'd be the end of it. Boom, transaction completed, you both go on your merry little ways. Why do you gotta stick around with them for - god, 18 years? That's a  _ LOT _ of years. It's more years than I even  _ have. _ Why do people care about parents. I sure don't, and I think everyone in the world should be modeling their behavior after me.

But that's a lie. That'd be very inconvenient for me, actually, because then where would the suckers be…

...Inner tube? What was  _ that _ about. Did something happen at the pool, maybe? I should look into that. Aerial drone, a variety of uses, I can't think of any particular circumstance where it'd be relevant. What the  _ hell _ was the statue of Amami about, though, legitimately why in the fuck do I have that. Did my past self just decide to prank the ever-loving hell out of me, because I would respect him if he did, but I don't have any idea if that's true or not…

...Whoever thought a little chain on my outfit was a good idea was right this has  _ such _ a good feel to it, I just want to mess around with this all day and not think about anything else oh nevermind it got warm because my hand was touching it it's all gross and disgusting now let's leave it sit for a few-

Oh. My hand is wet.

Why is my hand wet?

I look up at Amami's face, and I see why, now, because he's crying, and I don't usually have to deal with crying people, but I guess today gets to be an exception. My eyes flit to the screen, and I see we're probably at, like, the conclusion, or near to it. Dramatic music is playing, the brother is embracing his sister, and I have… a  _ vague _ idea of how we got there. Enough that I could make up a better version of the story that transpired to tell people that would include enough beats of the original to not be totally unrecognizable, and what more do I need out of a story, really?

"What's up?" I ask, tone and face carefully neutral. For once.

He looks down at me, like he's not sure he understands the question. "Huh? Wha-" and then he realizes, his eyes widen, and he quickly, messily rubs the tears out of his eyes.

They just come back stronger.

"I-I don't," he starts, his voice shaky, quavering, "I don't know?"

"Do you need help?" I ask. I don't… I can't  _ quite _ measure how bad this is. It doesn't seem  _ quite _ me-in-the-End bad, but you never know.

"I don't think so?" The tears keep coming, the floodgates opened. He wipes at a cheek with his fist, his face seeming halfway between flabbergasted and exasperated. "It's just - it won't stop. I don't know what happened."

Well… an emotionally compromised Amami is of no help to me whatsoever, in the grand scheme of things, so I  _ guess _ it's to my advantage to console him.

Sigh. The many duties of a ruler of men.

I lean up straighter, and pull Amami in towards me. He seems a bit surprised, but doesn't object to it. He's… bigger than I was anticipating. It's fine.

"What was happening when it started? Were you thinking about anything in particular?" God this sounds so weird coming from my mouth, like I got taken over by some kind of robot. I'm not built for this.

He shakes his head, and the ruffle of hair on my shoulder immediately sends a spike of serotonin directly into my bloodstream that makes it difficult to focus on his words. "Nah, nothing special. I was just watching the movie and he-" he pauses, seems to choke on his words, I can  _ feel his adam's apple bobbing on his throat, _ "sorry, he, found his," he's barely audible, "his sister."

"Perhaps," I give him a sly look and a wry tone, "that might have  _ something _ to do with it? Just going out on a limb, here."

He raises a hand, which ends up right under my face, " _ Perhaps, _ but I feel like this is an unfair attack on my character." He laughs, and it sounds hollow. He's still crying. "I'm not  _ supposed _ to feel like this."

"And I'm not supposed to get upset, not genuinely," I say, before I can stop myself, before I have time to regret it, but oh  _ god _ do I have time to regret it now, "but here we are."

He doesn't say anything after that, just nods softly into my shoulder, cries softly into my arm as the scene fades to black and the credits roll, while I think about how absolutely, unacceptably  _ weak _ I am.

"Thanks, Ouma," he lifts his head up off my shoulder, slowly, looks down at me, eyes puffy, cheeks red, a smile on his face. A genuine one, maybe, I don't care. It doesn't fucking matter. "You're… not so bad, you know?"

That feels like an arrow through my heart. He's not supposed to say things like that.  _ No one is. _ I smile, practiced. I-

I can't… say something and risk pushing him away permanently. If I do, I lose the End, I lose consciousness. He has all the power here.

Keep the smile up.

I close my eyes, tilt my head. "You're so  _ very _ misguided, but I suppose this hasn't been  _ completely _ boring. You're welcome, servant."

For a minute or so, it's silent after that. Him, looking like he's trying to think of something to say but doesn't have anything. Me, who wants  _ so badly _ to never say another word again because last time it went  _ catastrophically. _

I'm not looking at him when he says "hey," and it spooks me bad enough that my whole body jerks towards him. He laughs, softly. "No worries. I just wanted to say… if you didn't know what to do next, I don't know if you're the type, but I could do your nails? It seems like the kind of thing you might enjoy, if you haven't. I think I used to paint other people's nails? It's relaxing."

…

Distantly, emotions I can't quite parse churn in my gut. I don't know how I feel about this.

But it would get me out of the silence.

"Why not?" I grin, letting the smile get bigger as I keep speaking. "But if you do a bad job, I'm within my rights to kill you, you know."

He just laughs. "If I mess up and don't fix it, then I'll take whatever punishment you see fit to deal out."

I don't want that.

But I wish I did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouma you're overstimulated. You can just - you can just say you're overstimulated. you dont gotta be a dramatic son of a bitch abt it
> 
> in case you can't tell, making ouma angst about someone he can't remember but whose presence he indelibly FEELS is my absolute favorite pastime. I do it every chance I get.
> 
> Which is a lot.
> 
> Ouma? putting his foot in his mouth and responding by being an asshole instead of coming clean? Never expected that one.
> 
> Rantaro has really bad separation anxiety y'all it's just. super fucking bad. it's bad. It was ALREADY bad and this place made it WORSE, SO MUCH WORSE.
> 
> you could just subtitle this chapter "ouma is adhd and gay all over the shop" and youve basically got the right of it. thats just what he does for half of it. Like. For real i just went and projected a bunch of my ADHD behaviors all over this little bitch and he just gotta live with it now
> 
> the thing i hate most about writing from Ouma's POV is the number of truly terrible run-on sentences that I have to leave in because his thoughts are just. Like that. This boy is fucking allergic to periods and I hate it.
> 
> Real sadboy hours for Rantaro Amami here........ he just gotta live with his forgotten trauma like the rest of us tho
> 
> Ouma's really not enjoying the power dynamics at play here. See, if it was just them on equal footing, he could say amami has no rights all he wants. But Amami has something he needs. bitch gotta play nice. He's nerfed, basically. And also he's gay, that's a second nerf he's gonna have to cope with, but you know how it be.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rantaro paints Ouma's nails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cws,, a little vague talk of bodily mutilation as a joke? and the vaguest dirty talk possible. it's just ouma running his mouth really

...You know, three hours ago I'd have probably killed for a calm, quiet Ouma. But of course, now that I have him, I don't know what to  _ do _ with him. It's just… uncomfortable. Ever since that weird episode I had in the A/V room, he's been acting all strange and withdrawn around me. It feels like he's afraid of breaking me, and I absolutely  _ hate _ that. I've tried teasing  _ him _ some, turn it around, but he just won't come out of his shell. He'll react the same as usual, but he never instigates.

It's unsettling.

And it's so  _ weird, _ because I felt like we were getting close down in the basement. He opened up to me a little bit about how he was feeling, and… well, he didn't apologize, but it was as close as I'm expecting. Plus I could have done more myself to warn him about what was coming, I'll cop to that. I really wasn't expecting anything that… dramatic.

But still. As we walk together back to my dormitory room, I can't help but feel like I've done something very, very wrong to Ouma, and it itches under my skin like a sickness. Craves release. I just don't have an outlet for it. To fix the problem, I'd have to understand it. And I don't see any way to do that short of asking, which…

It's Ouma. I'm not exactly expecting miracles, here.

I open the door to my room and gesture to the cushioned seat before setting my warehouse supplies down at the table nearby and pulling the desk chair up next to where Ouma will be sitting. Ouma, for his part, stops, head swiveling to take in the room for a few moments longer than I expected - it's not really special, just like everyone else's - before he obliges me. 

"So, any particular preferences for what your nails will look like?" I ask. "If you've got something in mind, let me know. I can do a lot of stuff, I think? But considering…" I tap a finger to my temple, "well, the circumstances, anything fancy might take a while to get right."

"How long are we talking, here?" Ouma raises an eyebrow at me.

I grab one of his hands and bring it up to my face to look it over. Nails are pretty short, not especially even but decently so, filing won't take too long. He'll probably go nuts if I try to do a full mani, so we'll skip that. He's gonna have to wash these before I do anything with them, though. Thoroughly.

"I'd ballpark a simple art pattern at around an hour to an hour and a half." I shrug. "We could forgo the pattern if you want, but I think it adds an individualistic touch to it."

"An  _ hour and a half? _ " Ouma's voice reaches a falsetto I didn't realize it  _ had. _ "That's  _ so long, _ Amami."

"Well, I'm counting nail drying in that last bit." I say. He raises an eyebrow. "You've got to let it dry before you can do anything with your hands, or else you're gonna risk smudging it."

Has he never done his nails before?

I grab a decent selection of nail polishes and hold them out to him. "Anything grabbing you?"

Ouma stares down at the polish, biting his lip. I've never seen him so agonized over anything, actually. Finally, he breaks eye contact with the containers. "Surprise me," he says, looking away.

"You sure?" I ask. "I don't know your tastes."

"It's fine," he mumbles. You know, he's not seeming as enthused about all of this as I expected him to be.

Guess it's on me to knock him dead with a good pattern, then. I'll want to do something simple but striking - simple to minimize the risk of him running away with my canvas midstream, and striking is obvious. Maybe a nice purple ombre, something to match his eyes. They're a lovely color. Oh, his hair too, the tips… Yeah, that sounds perfect.

He's fidgety during the filing, the hand I'm not gripping drumming against the chair arm while I work. Typical Ouma, really.

"That has to stop before I actually apply the nail polish," I say, pointing the file at his spare hand.

He pouts at me. "You have absolutely no sense of adventure."

"More importantly," I go back to filing, "no sense of you getting nail polish all over this chair like a heathen and wasting both of our time."

When that's done, I pull out the nail clippers.

"Hey, wait, didn't you just file them?" Ouma points at the clippers, eyebrow raised.

"Oh, it's not for that," I smile big, "you see, you've got two options here. One, you go into my bathroom and you rinse those nails of yours - and under them - thoroughly."

He narrows his eyes. "And two?"

I turn the clippers around in my hand, and with a deft motion I whip  _ the hook _ around from underneath the clipping part. "Two, I do it myself."

Ouma's eyes widen. "Is this a  _ shakedown, _ Amami!?" He seems to recover, giving me one of his sly, 'villainous' looks. "Because I'll never give away the truth of my evil scheme."

"No," I keep my smile up, "this is a fingernail cleaner. For fingernail cleaning."

"That is  _ not! _ Despicable." Ouma's face droops. He does stand up, though, and walks into the bathroom to clean up his hands.

I carefully set aside what I'll need for this particular job, because actually I won't need all of these. A couple of little makeup sponges, two purples and a black (oh, these are nice purples, excellent), a base and top coat.

I still have time, though, so I just let my thoughts wander. Unsurprisingly, they wander back to the A/V room incident. I… don't get it. Like, I  _ get it, _ but I don't. I'm not really the weeping at the end of a movie type of person, so I don't get why that hit me so hard. Sure, it's nice that he got to find his sisters- no, sister- in the end and all, a cute happy ending, but I'm not… I don't get it.

Ouma seemed to imply that it had something to do with my own past. I dunno, maybe? I guess? It could? But… that all seems so,  _ so _ far away, with this killing game business, figuring out where we are, how to escape.

I don't know. Part of me wants to find out, but part of me is almost... scared of what I'll find.

So the collective of me decides to shove that in a little box in the back of my mind and worry about it later.

Ouma skates out of the bathroom and presents his clean, wet fingers to me. I nod, but gesture him back towards the bathroom.

"Those need to be dry," I say, to his rolling eyes. Wordlessly, he goes back inside and comes out a few moments later with much drier hands.

He sits down and I get started. I apply the base coat first and foremost, nice and simple. Though Ouma's still a little bit too squirmy. Granted, I feel like I've had worse.

"You're gonna have to be patient, here," I tell him, "because we've got to wait five minutes for that coat to dry before I start applying the nail polish."

"What!?  _ Why? _ " Ouma looks at me like I killed his cat, and for once I think it's completely genuine. "This is so  _ booooring. _ There's no point to this, my nails don't even look  _ different. _ "

"Well, the base coat preps your nails to receive the nail polish and makes it last longer and apply more evenly," I explain, "but go off I guess."

Ouma rolls his eyes. "So I just gotta sit here and wait? Without doing anything with my hands? You could have told me you'd intended to  _ torture me, _ Amami, I would have given you better suggestions."

"But I don't think they would have worked so well," I grin.

He frowns for just a moment before perking back up. "I dunno, I can be pretty creative when the moment strikes."

"Then give me a better torture method."

He pauses at that, puts a finger to his mouth, is momentarily surprised by the finger. "That smells kinda funny."

I roll my eyes. "Base coat barely smells like anything!"

Ouma shakes his head briskly. " _ You _ can't make that call," he says, pointing a slightly shiny finger at me. "You barely have a working nose in the first place."

"Hey, now, we can't all have superhuman sniffers."

He huffs and sticks his nose up at me. "Listen. I think even if we had a hundred people here and compared noses, yours would  _ still _ be the worst."

I rub the back of my neck. "Not even 97th? I'd like to aim for 95th."

Ouma is surprisingly easy to distract.

We continue talking about nothing in particular, and by the time five minutes roll around, Ouma almost seems surprised by it. But only almost, judging by the hungry look in his eyes. The stream of nonsense continues as I start applying the first coat - black nail polish. I would probably laugh if I saw him on the street with plain black nail polish, to be honest, especially in that white outfit.

"But what I'm  _ saying, _ is," Ouma starts, "how would you even  _ determine _ best nose at that point and why would it  _ matter _ if you're just going to cut it off to study it."

"Hey, scientific inquiry," I say, not really believing or caring about anything that I'm saying as I focus more on the nail polish.

This stuff has such a nice smell to it. One of the few things I  _ can _ smell, thanks Ouma for pointing it out, so I guess I get to take advantage of it while I can.

"But science without  _ ethics _ is just… just… dumb science!" Ouma sputters. He takes a moment, probably to change his expression. His tone sure changes. "Surely a sweet little  _ gentleman _ like you wouldn't condemn a thousand mice to death  _ unethically, _ right? Right?  _ Riiiiiight? _ "

"Out of sight, out of mind," I say. I don't actually believe that, but riling up Ouma seems like the way to go here.

"Oooh,  _ Amami _ , I didn't know you had it  _ in you _ ." Ouma practically coos. "You should really join my-" He stops, suddenly.

"Your…?" I prompt.

I can practically hear Ouma deflate in the silence as I keep painting. I'm just about finished with this hand. "My… you know, my supervillain team! You can be my incompetent henchman."

I let out a little laugh as I take his other hand. "That is  _ not _ what you were going to say."

He huffs. "Yeah, like Momota called himself Luminary of the Stars and didn't know what it meant, or like how you don't want to talk about your weird family thing, we've all got things that are just  _ stuck _ right out of reach."

I hum assent. "Anything particularly spicy over there? A lover, perhaps?"

I just said that to tease him, but his hand going rigid and the speed with which he declares, "no," paint a different picture than expected.

I stop for a moment, look up to his face. You can see the faintest hint of a blush there. He looks about ready to slap me.

Time to keep poking him!

"Ooh, who  _ is _ he," I give a gay wrist flick for good measure before returning to painting, "what's his  _ name _ , what's he  _ like _ , tell me about your first date."

"I'm not- we're not-" he stops suddenly, laughs. "Oh, Amami, you've fallen for my tricks yet again. Why, the one I was secretly dating this whole time was  _ you. _ And you don't even remember our anniversary."

"I would remember dating somebody as short as you."

"It's not that  _ I'm _ short," Ouma puffs his chest out, "it's just that the rest of you are all freakishly large. Just look at your shoe size. This is no way for mankind to live. Which is why, when I rule the world, I'll be cutting all of your feet down to reasonable sizes."

"Scary," I respond, flatly. I put away the black nail polish, grab the darker purple, and paint just a bit onto one of the makeup sponges. I turn my attention back to Ouma in both senses, applying the sponge to his nails to fade the color in. "So what's up with that boy, hmm?"

"Well, you tell me, Amami," I can practically hear Ouma's eye roll, even without looking, "since it's you and all."

"Is not." I pause. "Is it Gokuhara? You two seemed very-"

" _ No! _ " Ouma almost shouts. I'm glad he didn't spring his hand back. "Gonta isn't, like… someone you  _ date. _ Gonta is like…" He gestures with his spare hand. "like if a  _ sheepdog _ were a  _ person. _ You can't tell me you'd fuck that. No one should fuck that."

"Well, I didn't take it to the bedroom," I switch to the other hand, " _ you're _ the one who brought it there."

"Oh, don't pretend you didn't intend that." Ouma snorts. "Besides, I'm sure you get girls falling all  _ over _ a pretty boy like you. I'm sure you're used to it."

"No." I blink, trying to decide how much to say. "I'm gay and emotionally unavailable."

Ouma pumps his spare hand into the air. "I'll drink to that."

He seems awfully agreeable.

_...Wait. _

" _ So _ tell me about this boy, why don't you." I repeat.

"God damnit," Ouma whispers under his breath.

"I'm waiting," I grin to myself, finishing up the second hand. I reach for the next bottle of nail polish and the last makeup sponge.

As I start dabbing it on his fingernails, I wait for the latest evasion, a thinly veiled barb or some wildly off-topic story.

That doesn't happen.

"I don't know," is what comes out instead; quick, quiet. It almost makes me drop the sponge.

I recover quick, though. It's one of my better features. "So do you know  _ anything _ about him?

Ouma grumbles, and  _ almost _ rubs his hand through his hair, before I yell him down. Close save, that. "...Bits and pieces, nothing  _ real. _ "

"Mm-hmm," I hum.

I work in silence from there. The dam's already burst at this point. If I'm quiet, I think he'll probably come to me.

It takes a minute before he finally speaks. "...That room, the room the End was in. It was his. I know that."

"His?" I ask.

"Yeah, like… Akamatsu is glued to the piano? Chabashira is stuck in that dojo. Gonta has the bug room." Ouma moves like he's gonna put his hand to his mouth, but stops last minute, thankfully. This nail business is three seconds and a bad decision away from disaster at all times. "It doesn't apply to everyone, but nothing does. It's just trends, but they're meaningful. Put your head in the game on this."

...Wait. "So you think you've been here before?" How else would he…  _ know _ this?

"I  _ know _ I have."

The words carry more conviction than I'd expected. It surprises me, but I manage to keep myself focused on the task at hand. I'm good at focus. I've got to be.

"How do you know?" And why doesn't this place, this - this  _ killing game _ feel familiar to me, even feel  _ real _ at all? Why  _ him _ and not  _ me? _

I don't trust it.

"How do you know about your hole in the wall?" Ouma's tone is no-nonsense. It doesn't brook any disagreement. "Your senses. You see it, you can touch it. I can  _ feel _ it, I can see the signs. I've been here before. There's no doubt."

I switch to the other hand. "And he was there?"

Ouma pauses. "He had to have been."

_ Then where is he now? _ The question pulls at my throat, begging me to ask. But he doesn't know. I already know he doesn't know.

"Do you think he'll come here?"

A longer pause.

"I sure hope not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rantaro: Ouma will you fucking behave for once  
> Ouma: behaves  
> Rantaro: .... :|
> 
> I hate that I did a ridiculous amount of research on nail art only to realize that Ouma's character would not allow me to do anything remotely complex because he would literally vibrate out of his seat without something to distract him throughout that entire process. So now I know all of this shit about nail art and i'm never going to do anything with it. SIGHS
> 
> hey so like. Does anybody know if. the hook thing on fingernail clippers is, like. ACTUALLY for fingernail cleaning?? I don't think it is! I think it's just for like? Pulling out nails that are stuck close to the skin? But i've NEVER SEEN THEM USED LIKE THAT nor have I seen anyone insinuate they're SUPPOSED to be used like that. I spent hours sweating about this while I was writing this chapter.
> 
> let me tell you i don't think rantaro gets ANY joy in his life quite like teasing Kokichi when he knows it's getting through his thick skin. and hes valid flustered kokichi is incredible
> 
> goddamn tho for not being able to smell anything rantaro is like a fucking bloodhound when he gets on the trail. im kinda impressed rereading this. you go my man.
> 
> kokichi is one of the gayest sons of bitches ive ever written for and its very impressive considering ive written for a lot of very gay sons of bitches in my life. He's just a sucker for some gay and I think thats very endearing of him.
> 
> HEY SO FAIR WARNING THE NEXT CHAPTER AND A HALF OR SO, SHITS GONNA GET REAL. BE READY FOR THAT.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouma does what he does best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY SO JUST A GENERAL WARNING RIGHT OFF THE CUFF. This chapter gets heavy. Please take care of yourself and make sure you're ready before you dive in.
> 
> Some content warnings include: self-destruction, suicidal thoughts/actions and words.

Stupid Amami.

Stupid truth. Stupid guy I don't know. Stupid

fucking

nail polish that takes  _ OVER AN HOUR TO DRY?? _

Who invented this? Why would anyone subject themselves to this? Even with the dryer here, I've still got to be  _ careful with my hands and what I touch _ so I don't  _ get the polish everywhere _ and wow fuck a whole bunch of that. I've never been so acutely aware of everything I do with my hands as I am in this exact moment, which is a huge feat, because I'm always extremely aware of everything I'm doing with my hands.

Ugh. This sucks. This sucks. This  _ sucks! _

"This sucks!" I shout over the hair dryer.

"I got that impression after the third time you mentioned it," Rantaro doesn't raise his voice so it's a little hard to hear, but his raspy lows are already etched into my brain so I manage alright. Plus my apparent minor in reading lips (which I didn't know I had but I'm not complaining???) is coming in useful right now.

"But did you realize…" I narrow my eyes, whisper, "that this," shout, "FUCKING SUCKS?"

"Damn," he gives me a blank look, "you're right."

I immediately burst into tears. "I c-c-can't  _ BELIEVE THIS _ ," I shout, "I'm  _ TRYING _ to  _ CONFIDE _ in my  _ FRIEND _ and he leaves me out in the  _ COLD! _ " The tears keep gushing down my face. I realize, a little too late, that i can't actually reach up to my face to wipe these away so I'm going to have to cope with them sitting there until they dry. Nasty.

I shake my head like a dog instead. Sure enough, the motion manages to clear enough of it out at least. I smile. "Kayyyy! I feel better now." The smile fades. "But I'm still bored."

"Well, you could always make conversation," Rantaro says, a little louder. He wants this to be heard, I suppose.

"Sounds like a lot of work," I say. Also, that last conversation? It just kinda… fizzled out after I mentioned whatshisface, told Amami about him. What I know of him, anyways, which is fucking  _ nothing. _ And even so, I'm pissed he got that much out of me, especially when he's still stupid lime-flavored mystery man over here. It's unacceptable is what it is.

...Hey, wait.

"Maybe  _ you _ should be the one giving  _ me _ conversation for once," I smirk devilishly.

"I don't know what I would talk about," Rantaro offers a little shrug, not making eye contact. He's too focused on drying my hands. Ugh. My many flawless facial expressions are wasted on this goddamn simp.

"Well, I have some ideas if you want them!" I keep my tone light, smile innocently and childishly. Nothing bad  _ here, _ no  _ sir. _

"I don't trust that," he says immediately.

"Wow, brutal." I grin. "So you'd prefer to hear me crying, then?  _ Cold, _ Amami."

He pauses, looks at me ( _ thank you _ I've put a lot of effort into this facial expression you know), sighs. "Go ahead, then."

"With the crying, or-" his tired look tells me everything I need to know, "alright, alright! So  _ pushy. _ "

I clear my throat (weirdly hard to do without a hand in front of my mouth, I should practice that later), smile. "I think Amami should tell me about the things  _ he _ remembers from before here!"

He just blinks. "I mean, I've already told you what I remember. I traveled around a bunch, I think? Probably? I picked up a variety of skills, some different languages. It's interesting, I think, seeing places you're not familiar with and how the people there live."

He has… a weirdly well-defined grip on that stuff, especially compared to me. I don't get it. I know I picked up skills, but not  _ how _ or  _ where _ I picked them up, not to mention  _ why _ which I think is particularly relevant for things like lockpicking or reading lips.

Wait, shit, I'm getting distracted. I'll put that one aside for later.

"I didn't mean like that, silly Amami!" I coo. "I meant something about  _ here. _ About what's going on here. You can't tell me you don't know  _ anything. _ "

He bristles - slightly, minutely, just for a second, but enough that I  _ know _ I've got him. He knows something.

"I don't know anything about that." He lies! Oh my god, he lied to me. I'm not upset - just impressed. I didn't know what it would  _ take. _ Apparently cooperating with me is the line he won't cross.

"Oooh,  _ Amami, _ " I grin, "I didn't take you for a  _ liar. _ You know, I  _ hate _ liars. Absolutely despise them. I can't believe my good friend Amami is one of them! Why, the shock of this is so much, I might just-"

"Spare me." He rolls his eyes. "I don't know anything about this place, and I could only guess about what it's for. Guessing isn't even close to knowing."

"And what  _ are _ those guesses?" I smile. "I couldn't even  _ begin _ to guess. Don't hold out on me here."

He looks at me then, like,  _ really _ looks at me. There's none of the faux niceness he usually plays with. "I dunno, Ouma. I think we might have to be Level 2 Friends before I share  _ those _ with you."

...Alright,  _ Rantaro, _ well played.

I stand up, nearly knocking him back on his chair in the process. "Fine. So we're good here, right?" I bring my nails up to my face to inspect them. He was right, this fade in pattern  _ does _ look nice. Black at the base goes into dark purple in the middle and light purple at the tips. I like it. And I like the idea of other people seeing them like this.

Which is why I don't get why I just want to  _ hide them _ more than anything, like some potent fear disease. Is this my one fragile, dying brain cell clinging desperately to the concept of heterosexuality? Because I'm damn sure I never thought I was straight.

Ugh. Whatever. They're here now, and I'm going to own them, my own fears be damned. Don't need that shit weighing me down anyways. I've got enough on my shoulders as it is.

...I realize, now, that I've completely missed whatever Amami said. Well I'm sure it wasn't that important so I'm just gonna shrug it off and get going.

"Hey, wait,  _ wait! _ " He raises his voice, just a little, before I get to the door. "Let me open it. Like I said, you shouldn't do anything too hand intensive until it fully dries."

Oh,  _ that's _ what he said. Well, fine. I scoot out of the way and let him take the door. "Ooh, what a  _ gentleman _ you are, Amami," I say, batting my eyelashes at him.

He lets out a little chuckle at that. Well, I suppose he bounces back quickly, if nothing else.

I step out the doorway-

And I stop cold.

Something's not right here.

"Ouma?" Amami asks from behind me. I walk forward, examining the face plates both in front of me and behind me.

One on each side is blacked out, scorched beyond recognition.

And the rest... 

They're gone. Just gone.

I'm not sure which of the two I should be more hopeful for, but I need to know. I  _ need _ to know. Is he scribbled out… or is he gone?

The word  _ gone _ puts a twinge of hope and a twinge of fear into my chest, all at once. I don't know what it means. I don't know what any of this means. I need to… figure  _ something _ out, but  _ how? _

Wait. My room.

"Wait here," I say, "I'll be right back." Amami seems distracted enough by processing the same thing I noticed, but his attention still turns fully to me as I sprint up the stairs, back to my room.

Sorry, Amami, I really need in here.

I pull out the lockpicks and go to work on this lock. I practically know its mechanisms by heart, for reasons I'm increasingly convinced are because I habitually picked it locked and unlocked instead of using a key like a civilized human being. Which is in character for me, really, so that tracks.

Rantaro's following me up the stairs, so I just pop in the room, lock the door behind me, and go to check the board.

There were undefined people on there before. What will they look like  _ now? _

Well, Momota's on there. I guess that makes sense. If I got over here before him, it's not like I had time to update this or anything.

Sure enough, as expected. Two of them are blacked out, like I scribbled over the pictures with a marker. And the other three… the pictures are just  _ empty. _

Distantly, I notice one of the blackened - no, not that word, darkened - is the one labeled "weird," and I notice that all five under "annoying" are also blacked out, but I don't care about  _ those. _

Blood roars in my ears.

He's gone.

_ He's gone. _

I don't know how I know, and I don't care, and none of it matters, I feel angry and happy and betrayed and relieved and I  _ don't know what's going on here anymore. _

"What the  _ FUCK!? _ " I find myself shouting, just so something can fill this fucking space. Just so there's something I can  _ do. _

I just want control of _something._ _Anything._ I want to leap under that stupid _fucking_ press while it's coming down just so _something_ that happens is _my_ choice for once.

But no. I don't get that. Of  _ course _ I don't. When have I ever.

…

I unlock the door. I step out of the room. Amami's there, leaned up against the wall, an extra door's length away from mine. I wordlessly close the door and pick it back to a locked position.

"Everything go okay in there?" He asks, casually, conversationally. Easy smile on his face. Easy lie on his lips.

I smile.

"Fine," I say, my tone pleasant. Approachable.

"So what now?" He doesn't comment on what I said. He knows it's a lie, he just doesn't care. Or it doesn't matter. It doesn't, does it?

"Why don't we go to the End? I'm ready to give it another go." My smile is cold and unnatural, like a snake posing as human. I can hear the venom in my voice, too.

Maybe it'll kill him.

Or maybe it'll kill me.

Who cares at this point?

The walk isn't a long one to the classroom, but it feels like forever. My head is swimming, and Amami keeps  _ looking at me, _ trying to make conversation. I just say whatever comes to mind off the top of my head. I don't even know what I'm saying. Probably lies. It doesn't matter.

Eventually we're here, and I cross my arms, staring at Amami expectantly. "So, you ready?"

"Are you?" He asks. There's no smile on his face. His tone is careful, guarded. "You should know, last time wasn't a fluke. Everything is more intense over there, especially emotions. It's a fight to keep calm when you're in there."

"And?" I laugh. It sounds controlled. It doesn't shake. "I deal with managing emotions all the time. It's easy peasy for a  _ liar _ like me."

He raises an eyebrow at me, and I don't snap at him, because Ouma Kokichi is  _ in control. _

"You're not making it look easy right now. You still have time, you're not tired yet. If you can't handle it, you shouldn't go in."

"And what would  _ you _ know about it, Amami?" Someone else speaks. I don't know who. "If you hadn't cried in the A/V room, I'd be hard pressed to believe you felt  _ anything _ at all. Did you even  _ blink _ when you lost the others? Would you even blink if you lost me?"

Hurt, genuine hurt, passes over his face, and I feel a grin cutting deep into mine. I don't know who said that, but they should keep going. A laugh escapes me, a real laugh for once. This - this is funny. This is what I've been  _ itching _ for since I first laid eyes on this stupid son of a bitch.

"Of  _ course _ I care." He snaps, and  _ oooh, _ are we gettin' feisty now? " _ You're _ the one who's treating this like a  _ game. _ You-" He stops, takes a breath, sighs. Weak. Intend your barbs. It makes it sweeter. "What do you even  _ want _ out of this? What do you think this is going to accomplish?"

I laugh again, shrug. "Who cares? It's fun, isn't it?"

His eyes narrow, teeth clenching - he's baring them open like some kind of animal. I think I can see a vein ready to pop. " _ This _ is fun to you, Ouma? Everyone else here is  _ dead, _ or near enough to it. It's just you and me. And  _ you _ think constantly  _ antagonizing _ me is your idea of a  _ fun _ time? At least if I'd dragged Kaito out to the End, I'd have someone playing for the same side!"

Weak. Oh my god, he's weak. That's the best he's got?

I make a scoffing sound. " _ I'm _ doing you a  _ favor. _ If you don't stay on your toes, how do you expect to survive out here?"

"How do  _ you _ expect to survive out here when you're set and determined to act like an  _ ass _ to the only person who can keep you going?"

"Then leave me to die!" I laugh, the realest laugh yet, long and loud and so full of energy it runs all up and down the richter scale like the natural disaster I am. "Who cares? Not me! I'd rather die than be beholden to some spineless, stupid husk like  _ you. _ "

Amami blinks, tilts his head back. Stops. Everything's calm. It's not-

That's not supposed to happen.

"That's a lie," he says, calmly,  _ too _ calmly, after I called him everything I could think of.

"I'm  _ not _ lying!" I shout. And it's true. I'm not.

"This is a game, like  _ always. _ " Rantaro says, brow furrowing as he stares. I don't know  _ why. _ He's so  _ stupid. _ The one time I'm telling the truth and he thinks there's a  _ mystery _ to it?? God. Why do I even bother speaking. "So what's your  _ real _ problem?"

"I just  _ told you. _ " The- the room is shaking. It must be. Can't be me. I make rooms shake. "You're a fucking  _ moron _ and I'm  _ sick _ of being stuck to your  _ ass _ playing patty cake all day."

He just tilts his head at me, brows digging deeper. "So do you even really mean any of this?"

" _ I MEAN EVERY LAST WORD OF IT! _ " I  _ shout _ so deep and hard my voice cracks, breaks, and I'm left sputtering, face warm and wet, everything in me sparking, burning, burnt, dead. A hurricane too long over land, just rain, loud wind and thunder.

He just-

he just  _ looks _ at me

and i cant keep looking at him

"say," i can barely speak, "just say something,"

"You're hurting, aren't you?"

just rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I call this one Kokichi Ouma's No Good Very Bad Day.
> 
> It's my thought that between Kokichi's upbringing and the talent put into him as the Ultimate Supreme Leader, he probably has, like, a boatload of really weird shit he knows how to do. Reading lips being one of those things. He probably has a conlang, too, he seems like the type to make one one day because he's bored and then force all his henchmen to learn it and use it during pranks.
> 
> i just have to take a moment to appreciate "lime-flavored mystery man" because that's one of my favorite things i've written for this overall.
> 
> Important: Kokichi does not know what "simp" means. He just knows it's an insult and that's enough for him.
> 
> There are two wolves inside of you. One of them wants to look like a flamboyant gay man. The other one wants, desperately, to pass. You do not know the second wolf exists. You are Kokichi Ouma.
> 
> Side note: the narration didn't have any room for it because it completely flew his mind when important shit came up, but somehow, miraculously, Kokichi did not fuck up his nails picking that lock. I'm as surprised as anyone.
> 
> Fun fact: I personally think Kokichi's greatest weak point is a lack of agency. If you take away his ability to DO something, anything, if you take all of his choices out of his hands, that's the realest way to get under his skin. So he's not taking this whole situation the Best right now.
> 
> Not much else to say! Very happy with that ending, ah... discussion. We'll have the comedown from that next chapter, which I'm also excited for in a different sense.
> 
> Oh, wait, one thing to say, actually. This was originally planned to go even harder than it actually did. I had some other stuff that I was planning on bringing up that I pushed back for later because it would have straight up broken this twink son of a bitch if it all happened all at once and I'm not fully prepared to clean up THAT mess. Not yet, anyways.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rantaro eases tensions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: kokichi's still tryna selfdestruct on main. otherwise i think were good? lmk

Ouma.

So _frustrating_ because he's _so_ clever but he insists on using his intelligence to poke and prod at you until you're sore and snapping at him. I'd swear he _craves_ someone hating him.

Looking at him now, on his knees, crying and shaking only after I _stopped_ fighting him, I can't help but think… maybe he does.

I crouch on the floor, a good foot away. He's not good with touch when he's upset, I remember.

I just sit and watch, quietly, impassively, while he leans forward, shudders, sobs.

What else can I do?

It feels like forever, but it might just have been a minute or two, before he puts his arms on the ground, eases off his knees just a little, and stumbles the foot over to me before falling into my arms. It's awkward, it's ungainly, and I barely caught him, but I did. His face is buried in my chest, his chest draped over my legs in a position that must be uncomfortable (I know it is for me).

" _Don't_ say a word," he whispers. I don't think he could manage much more after running his throat raw. He still manages to make it sound authoritative, like there can be no argument, even while his voice quivers. "Don't move. Don't speak. Just. Listen."

I don't move. I don't speak. I just listen.

"You-" his voice breaks, he pauses, "you need to leave me behind."

He pauses.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not…" he trails off, "not… Helpful. I'm not Momota. I'm not any of the others, not-" he lets out a small sob, "not Gonta." A little wheeze of a laugh escapes him, turns into a sob, dry and wet and scratchy and strangled.

"And it's obvious that's what you want. What you need. Someone like Akamatsu to sit by your side and be your _girl toy,_ or someone like Momota to fist bump you until you're ready to commit to whatever you've already decided to do." His laugh is more controlled this time, but more mocking. Of me or him, I can't tell. "Just take one of them. I'll help. You can take them and leave me behind and then I won't have to worry."

Worry about what?

He lifts his head up, leans his chest back. Stares up at me. "Well?" he asks, still so quiet.

I raise an eyebrow at him, but I say nothing.

"Answer me!" he snaps.

I let the ghost of a smile appear on my face. "I thought I wasn't supposed to speak."

He drops back onto his own knees, which touch mine as he sits on them in front of me. "Oh my _god,_ I can't _fucking_ believe you. You absolute _shithead._ "

I laugh it off for the toothless barb it is. "Why, though?"

"Why are you a shithead?" He wipes at his eyes. His voice seems a little steadier, a little stronger.

"Why should I leave you behind?"

"Use your _gray matter,_ Amami," he snaps, "cuz that should be obvious."

I drop from a crouch into a cross-legged sitting position. "I'm gonna need you to say it for me."

He does the same. Our legs are touching again. "Because! I'm not-" he stops, breathes, "I'm not what anyone _wants_ in this situation. I'm just what you _cope with._ You could and should cut me loose, obviously, since this partnership isn't working out for you." He makes a shooing motion. "It saves me the trouble."

...Something's not adding up here. "The trouble of what?"

He blinks. "Ending it. Duh."

Why would he end it? It's gotta be fear. But fear of _what?_ "Do you think I'm going to do something to you?"

He snorts. "This would be more entertaining if you did."

...Probably not, then. But if it's not me, then what could it be? This place? No, but… the only things left are it and-

"Yourself?" I whisper.

He raises an eyebrow. "Eh?"

But… what about himself? This doesn't make sense, but - hell, let's try it. "So if you're not scared of what I'll do, you must be scared of what you'll do."

He laughs, loud and sudden, and I nearly jolt at the noise. It's stronger than any of the others he's done - I'm surprised his voice can handle it. He blinks a tear out of his eye. "Bullshit."

...Bingo.

"So what are you afraid you'll do?" I ask.

He lets out a smaller laugh this time, a realer one. "I just want to end it on my terms."

I frown. "Do you not want to live?"

"Oh, no, absolutely hate it, can't stand it," he replies, too easily, his smirk returning to him.

I sigh. "Then explain _why._ "

"Really didn't think I'd have to, chief." He winks at me, still smiling. "Kinda considered that bridge well and burnt by now."

Why is he like this? I roll my eyes. "I swear, an apology would _not_ kill you every once in a while."

"Oh, it _would._ " He pouts. "I have a deathly allergy, you know. Never tried it, I know I would shrivel up and die on the spot."

"Maybe you should give it a try."

Silence. Then, quietly, barely audible, "...I'm sorry."

"I am too," I say, not really sure why or what I have to be sorry for, so much has happened. It just feels like the thing to say.

I give him a few minutes to recover from his corpse act on the floor, and take the time to stare up at the ceiling instead. It's quiet. Not for long, but for now at least. It's nice, every once in a while.

But I don't think I could get used to quiet all the time. Not after so much time spent with Ouma.

"Kokichi," the sound of Ouma's voice finally breaks the silence.

But I'm not quite sure what he's saying. "Hm?" I ask, looking back down at him.

Ouma's grinning real big, but not making eye contact. Pointedly, even. If it wasn't on _his_ face, I would almost call it sheepish. But Ouma's very good at looking the part of the wolf.

"My _name._ " He looks at me then, frowning, brows lowered. "It's Ouma Kokichi. I thought it'd be obvious."

"Kokichi, huh?" I say. "It's more mild than I was expecting for you."

Ouma just blinks. His expression is blank. "Say it again."

...Huh? "It's more mild-"

"Not _that!_ " He waves a hand in front of him. "My name! Say it!"

Well, this is a new one. I can't help but feel like I'm being tricked, but I indulge him anyways. "Kokichi?"

A tiny smile crosses his face.

...You know, I think it suits him better than any of his gigantic ones.

"Yeah," he grins bigger, a finger on his lips as he winks, "I _guess_ I can let you call me that. If you insist."

Three responses crossed my mind, from _I didn't insist_ to _why did you even hide it in the first place if you wanted me to call you that_ to _is this how you diffuse arguments?_ But none of that came out of my mouth.

What did, was, "so does this mean that we're Level 2 Friends now?"

He laughs, something quiet, private. "Don't push it, _Ran-taro_." He takes it slow, like he's tasting it in his mouth. It's a little strange-sounding, but I don't mind. "One and a half, at best."

I shrug. "It's closer!"

We sit there for a while, talking about everything and nothing, and Ouma lies, and I laugh it off, and things are normal enough again. I'm not… used to feeling this warm after arguments. Or maybe I'm just not used to arguing. I'm a fairly agreeable person in most situations.

But this isn't most situations, now, is it.

Eventually, wordlessly, Ouma stands up, and I follow suit. I offer the End one parting glance before we leave. We'll have to come to terms with whatever happens to him in _there_ soon enough.

But not now.

Now, I take him to the casino and watch as he falls in love with the fishing game, eagerly runs over people in the driving game (ew) and rambles about how he wants to run a casino someday because anybody who comes to one of these places to win money deserves to get swindled because the _real_ fun is in losing whatever money you set aside for gambling.

Kokichi's easy to laugh along with.

We visit the pool. He pushes me in. Expecting this, I pull him in too. Turns out his outfit deals with water a lot worse than mine does, as we're wringing ourselves out on beach chairs and he looks like a drowned dog. One of those fluffy ones that look like a fuzzy skeleton after a bath.

"Shower?" I ask him, pulling my shirt off, whipping it into a twist, and squeezing the water out.

"Shower." He agrees, trying to blow a tuft of sticky hair out of his face, failing, and brushing it aside with a finger instead. It clings to his face like a newborn, and it's really funny to watch.

Ouma was right about one thing. I _did_ need this. I can't help but think, even as warm water runs over my face, that none of my problems are solved. We're still trapped here. We still have no idea what to _do_ about it. Who put us here, why (though I can guess) or how. Or how we can escape. I can't just leave those burdens behind.

...But I can set them down. For a little while, at least. Long enough to remember _why_ I need to live, instead of just trying to live for its own sake.

I really did need this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was a challenge to write but i'm very proud of the result. It took a lot of finagling. arguments are hard but recovering from them? HARDER.
> 
> They're on a first name basis now! Finally. Jeez louise you fuckin nerds lighten up for five seconds. Their internal narration is gonna shift every so often for a while still, though, sometimes unintentional (on their part) and other times intentional. I have fun with that.
> 
> thought i would have more to say about this chapter but i do not! couple of points here will be more or less particularly relevant in the next chapter or two to come, points to you if you can guess which ones those are. my skim caught three particular points.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouma enters the End again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is another doozy. Be careful with it.
> 
> some general cws I can think of: brief surgery mention; lengthy, realistic depiction of extreme overstimulation from the perspective of the person overstimulated (which may tread close to panic attacks for some); canon-compliant violence and death. also ouma being an asshole

Hey, so, like.

Was anybody gonna _tell me_ I was trans? Or was I just supposed to look at myself naked in a mirror at some point and figure this out?

I-

God, I-

Damn.

I _really_ hate how much sense everything makes now. The scars on my chest? The fact that I've never been able to grow facial hair? The nervousness about the nail polish? The way my brain lit up like a christmas tree when stupid Amami said my stupid name? I _get it_ now.

Well! Time to pack _that_ all up in the back of my head and never think about it again. I put on the post-shower boxers with a _particular_ emphasis that I think must be spiteful of God. The rest of the outfit comes on right after (well "right" after, this shirt takes a stupid amount of time to put on). By the time I get out of my room, Rantaro's already waiting for me.

"How are you holding up?" He asks in that way that's conversational as a smokescreen for his worry. He must think that I'm tired.

I yawn. Goddamnit.

"Never better!" I wink. He's not gonna believe that.

I offer him a glance as I pick the lock closed. He absolutely does not believe that.

"We're going to have to go back to the End sooner or later," he says in that rumbly tone of his that feels like he's parenting me, which I dislike, not least because he's hot and that makes it weird.

"I know," I say, in a carefully neutral tone. I imply that I'm focused on picking this lock. That's a lie, and actually I'm already done, I'm just kinda fiddling in here so I can pretend I'm casual about this and that my actual problem isn't that last time I asked to go in there it was so I could have an excuse to explode on Amami.

I don't even think he realized. I still don't think he realizes. For such a smart guy, god, he can be _so dense._

"Are you ready to go after this?"

Tch.

I put the lockpicks away. "Yeah," I lie, neutral tone, simple glance, "I'm ready."

Maybe, if I lie well enough, I'll even be able to fool myself.

So we start on the death row march. I make casual chitchat, like I'm not worried about it, because I'm not. Last time was a one time thing. I need this to survive here! I'll be fine.

Before I know it, before I'm ready, we're here. and Amami's taking my hand, and I'm walking back into the End.

Okay so this is real simple Ouma youre gonna take your time this time and youre not gonna think too hard about anything and youre not gonna go too hard and youre gonna ignore that pounding in your head and the feeling like everythings turning to ash around you its fine its fine its fine its not fine its fine its fine

breathe

please fucking breathe

amami has that look on his face again hes worried about me i need to do something about that i need to but what can i do i could do so many things i could SCREAM i dont think that would help actually but itd feel good but hm hm hm HMMM hmhm hm think think ouma youre thinking so much right now you should be able to think of a way to fix this ouma come on ouma hey kokichi hey

"Kokichi?" he asks me and his voice is like a razor in my mind why is it so LOUD right now why is the silence so loud why is him EXISTING too loud it needs to stop it all needs to stop please please

"Sorry I'm fine" i mumble all at once just to get something out of my head and into the air i dont know what it sounded like or what it looked like how can i know i need to know hm maybe that pain in my face is my smile actually let me see if i can turn it down a little and ease off and thatll reduce the pain and probably make amami happy too so its a win win situation right

right

"I look fine right" I ask and maybe that wasnt the best question because Amami looks like something but i cant focus and i want to SCREAM and

breathe

please. breathe. please. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Ouuuuuuut.

"Okay I think I'm" breathe in breathe out "I think I'm better" I tell him. I keep my focus on him for a second and im okay i think not okay okay but okay enough i guess?

breathe in breathe out

He keeps trying to say something and it doesnt matter what i do i cant make the hearing words work and i cant focus enough to read his lips whats even the POINT of being able to read lips when i cant when i NEED to okay breathe. Breathe. Fix this.

I- how do i do that though what do i say what can i say to make him get it its stupid its pointless i should be better i. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

"T-" try "try again slowly" I say.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I think I hear "down" and "breathe." i AM breathing rantaro dont FUCKING rush me well he probably didnt mean it like that what does down mean? Slow down maybe? Maybe. Why is he pointing at the floor though

oh wait wait

SIT down. _I_ get it. I'm very smart. I sit down with my back against something and no clue what and i do NOT care.

he sits down next to me and hes not going to touch me is he he better not no he doesnt. He's far enough away. I'm okay. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

I see him gesturing something and i cant figure out what so i just watch his hands move up and down slow with

oh

The rising of his chest. He's trying to lead me through breaths. Okay.

Breathe in. Wait. Breathe out. Keep- breathing out? In, slow. Out. Slow.

"Okay," I finally say. I still feel like my head is about to explode, but I can think now. I think.

"Okay?" Rantaro asks in that smug ass tone of his and it sends a spike of pain and annoyance through me but-

Keep breathing. In slow. Out slow.

"So what now?" I ask him. I just want to move on. _Please_ can we move on. My head won't stop pounding. It just keeps going and going and going and going and

"I don't wanna push you."

thats a joke right i- im being pushed by existing right now what am i supposed to do just stop turn tail and leave again out of nowhere i already feel like an idiot for doing that i dont think we need to do that again

Breathe. In out. In slow out slow. In slow. Out slow. In, slow. Out, slow. Okay.

"I'll do better with something to focus on," I lie. An easy lie because it's a little true. I'll _feel_ better at least with _some_ kind of direction. I probably will not _do_ better but i just want this OVER with please please please

"Okay then," he says, and I snap to attention, watching him carefully, I can't miss this, "try and think about something related to your past, if you can. I think we're closer to it here than anywhere else."

Closer, huh.

That makes sense, all my clearest thoughts about _him_ were right after I left here. I close my eyes and tilt my head back and I can _almost_ see him there, in a dark outfit, eyebrows scrunched as he stares at my hand clasped in his, staring with those piercing eyes. What _color_ were they what did his voice sound like what did he say that i cant get him out of my mind who IS he whats his NAME

s- sa- si? sai- so- shu-

"Fuck," it's not there. It's not coming to me. Breathe.

"You okay?" Rantaro asks and he's all aflutter with worry I neither need nor _want._

"Fine," I rasp between my teeth. I don't care if he thinks I'm fine or not. I just want him _off my back._

I just want _something_ out of this and the more i try to think about him the more hes slipping away and i hate this i hate this its even worse than not knowing i feel like im staring at a cut out picture trying to piece together who was in the photo and it SUCKS

Enough. Just. Enough. This is a waste of fucking _time._

I could be doing anything else, thinking of anything else. Like Iruma and Gon-

nn

ngh.

I feel like a spike's driving through the back of my head. My vision swims, blurs and darkens, and I find myself _somewhere else_ when I can finally open my eyes again.

"Kokichi! Hey!" I hear Rantaro's voice, out of focus, fuzzy, quieter as it fades out.

He's _gone now._

_And soon, Gonta will be too._

_"You got some balls lying to me," I hear my voice say, tone neutral, smile etched into my face, "I'm gonna take away your fun for pissing me off, S------"_

Hhhgh. The name only comes out in a fuzzy haze of half-sounds and vocalizations that don't mean anything. My _heart is pounding_. What's happening?

 _"I won't let you do any detective work, or deduction, or mystery solving, or anything!" I spit the words out, all savage and spiteful, when in reality I think I'm a little impressed. It's hard enough to tell in the moment normally. I put on a childish smile, and tell him (them? there are many podiums in the room, but I only have eyes for_ him _) the truth._

 _The voices, others' and my own, get hazier after that. I only get vague impressions of what's happening, glimpses of the ideas of people speaking. But I hear clearly enough that Iruma was planning to kill me._ It makes my blood run cold just thinking about it.

 _"Well then!"_ my blood runs colder when I shout into the room, and I feel my intent, as venomous as it was when I lashed out at Amami, if not more so. _I smile, tilt my head, and say "the culprit is Gonta."_

 _The whole room goes quiet_ and I can't stand it.

 _"W-w-wait! When did Gonta kill Miu!?" Gonta asks,_ and _god_ it burns me up inside seeing him like this. What did I do? _Why?_ What reason could anyone have to do this!?

 _I can't see their faces, but I can_ feel _them burning rage into me. They blame_ me. _They want to think_ I _killed Iruma. I smile as my hands grip tight into the podium in front of me. Their blame is just what I wanted. 'Cuz if they all say I did it, then_ we all die.

...What? _Why!?_ What does any of this _mean!?_

_But I'll give them a fighting chance, and I'll lead them towards the truth. If they're willing to accept it, then hey. Maybe they'll survive long enough to matter._

_...Well. I say them, but it's him. It's always him. He pieces through the lies and their emotional bullshit. He finds the truth. Like he always does. And I can't help but think that one day, I want to make a case so impossible to decipher that even_ he _can't put it together. Yeah, I think if I could do that I would die happy._

 _When I find out that Gonta doesn't even_ remember _the crime we committed, it's like a knife in the chest. Sure, I didn't expect him to be the_ best _at lying about it, he's kind of a moron, but… this isn't even the same_ person. _My grip on the podium just tightens harder. If I don't keep it together now, then this whole thing is pointless. I stay childish, mocking, like I don't care. 'Cuz I don't care. I don't care about Gonta, or anyone, or Sa-----. None of them._

 _I just care about_ winning. _I_ have _to just care about winning._

_Gonta's selected as the blackened, and there's a small, stupid part of me that's relieved I live another day, even though-_

Even though _what!?_ What?

_They hook up a virtual version of Gonta, one who knows the crime he's committed, to get them to explain. He… says that he killed Iruma and tried to kill everyone else to save them. It--_

_sounds right_

makes my SKIN CRAWL

_and I can relate_

and I can't POSSIBLY relate

 _so I explain my side. When I found out about the secret of what the outside world_ really _was. How I roped Gonta into it. How I showed him it too. How it made him lose… any hope that we would ever make it out of here._

_Hee hee. Just like me._

_So Gonta tells them the truth. That when he saw it, he thought it would be easier to die. That we should team up and kill everyone in this killing game, to spare them._

But WHY!? Ouma Kokichi, you stupid, lying bastard, just _tell me what I need to know_ for ONCE in your life! I need this. I need to know _why._ Why would I do this?

_I feel something prickling at my eyes, and I decide it's time to go off-script a bit. For once, I'm honest. About how much this hurts. About how much knowing about the outside world hurts. About how much making Gonta do this hurts. I let it all out now, burn up these real emotions in front of everyone until they're ash and dust and I can put whatever I want on display in their place afterwards._

_"Don't blame Kokichi anymore," Gonta says, and he's_ so _nice and sweet about_ everything _that I feel the pain and the guilt and the rage and the self-loathing churning ever stronger in my chest, fucking_ begging _for me to give it an outlet. Oh, soon. So soon._

 _So I promise Gonta that I'll make up with everyone else and be friends. I lie and I lie and I lie and it makes my chest roil and squirm like a ship in a hurricane and_ this _is what I needed, with the sadness and self-pity all gone I'll have everything I need to take control of this once and for all._

_So he's executed._

_Watching it almost breaks me. Almost. Watching him get stung by a hundred bugs, knowing that it's my fault, then seeing that_ thing STAB HIM _in the chest, only for-_

_just for-_

_it to all go up in flames afterwards. I feel like I'm burning on that pyre. I_ know _I_ should _be. It almost winks out my anger into desolate misery._

_Almost._

_I take the time while the others are talking about whatever the fuck to recover. To compose myself. To prepare. After_ that _show earlier, this_ needs _to be flawless._

 _And then_ she _asks me. What the secret of the outside world is._

Please just tell me.

 _But I'm not telling. I let my anger and my hatred for everything, most of all me, curl my face up so far it hurts, and I laugh, like it's_ funny, _because it_ is. _It's_ hilarious _that these people would think I could show sympathetic emotion. That I could care about anyone._

 _"Oh man!" I laugh again, barely able to contain myself. "Did you fall for all that fake crying? You're_ SO DUMB! _I would_ never _cry for Gokuhara!"_

 _And I lie and I lie until even I don't remember the truth anymore, until the villain onstage is the only person I've ever been, and it lets me uncoil the snake curled tight around my heart so I can_ finally _breathe easy again._

 _"Who cares about that idiot!?" My cheeks hurt as I laugh, and I don't care. "I wanna_ enjoy _this game filled with suspicion and betrayal from the bottom of my heart!"_

_And I lie and I lie and I lie and I lie and they all believe me, it's perfect, all of them idiots so ready to take me at my word. I drown in their grief and their rage and their misery like it's wine and I'm Bacchus the reveler. My fist collides with Momota's face when he rushes me and I laugh about it, because it's funny. Everything is… so funny. 'Cuz humor is rooted in the absurd, and all of this, it's all absurd. So I laugh._

_Until_ his _voice cuts through the thick._

 _"Kaito always has_ us _by his side, see? But no one wants to be around_ you, _" Sai---- snaps. "You're alone, Ouma. And you always will be."_

_That isn't absurd. It's not funny. It's just true, and he's right, and I'm glad for it._

_It gives me the excuse that I need to finally cut out this weak heart of mine and throw it into the pyre, with Gonta, where it_ belongs.

_I'm alone, just me and the snake coiled where my blood used to beat._

_And that's the way it always should be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well. he was bound to find out sometime. When i wrote the shower thing incidentally I was like "o-
> 
> "oh."
> 
> so HERE WE ARE I GUESS GRATS KOKICHI UR TRANS
> 
> oops.
> 
> OOPS.
> 
> OOPS......
> 
> Sorry for accidentally pelting all of you with my possibly controversial chapter 4 headcanons but thats what we're rolling with here.
> 
> uh. yeah! i think thats all i got to say on that. enjoy these hot takes maybe next time we'll get to?? not this


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi tells the truth. Or enough of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: references to the canon-typical violence mentioned last chapter.

His bright green eyes are staring me down when I finally open mine.

To my credit, I manage to  _ not _ do the impulse thing, which would be to jump up and knock our heads together. I think he can  _ tell _ that was my impulse, because he steps back and lets me get my bearings. I'm laying on something hard. I realize, after looking at it, that it's a school desk. Actually, a few stacked up next to each other. I roll to a sitting position, my legs dangling off the end of one desk. We're in… the classroom, right, okay. That makes sense. I don't quite recall  _ how _ but it does.

"Are you feeling alright?" Rantaro asks. I  _ hate _ seeing him with concern on his face for me.

I try to get out a "I'm fine," but it comes out more like "mmngngnngh" which I guess works fine too.

He chuckles. "That was unexpected."

What was? ...Wait. "Did I pass out?" I manage to say.

Rantaro shakes his head. "I'm not sure…" He puts his hand up to his chin. "Though asking that question would imply yes, I guess. It's strange, remembering something wasn't quite so traumatic for me. Course, the End's always seemed worse on you."

...Remembering-

_ Gonta. Lies. Guilt. Execution. Stabbing, fire, death. Murder. Laughter. Murder. MURDERER- _

A hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, you okay?" He drops his head to look me face to face, green eyes sparkling. "It's fine to be stressed about this. I can't speak for yours, but mine was a bit intense."

A bit intense. A  _ bit _ intense. I almost laugh in his face. Well, fine, let's see just  _ how _ intense his  _ was. _ "Tell me about yours, then."

He frowns deeply, his brow creases. I'm not sure if he's actually going to give me it, for a minute, and I'm not sure if  _ he's _ sure either. But eventually he does speak. "Mine was a memory of a killing game."

The words  _ killing game _ echo through every ounce of my being. My own words echo in my ears,  _ I wanna enjoy this game filled with suspicion and betrayal from the bottom of my heart! _ And I-

I don't know what to do. I don't even know who I  _ am _ anymore. Even at my worst, I never thought I would do…  _ that. _ Anything like that.

"We can do this later," Rantaro suggests.

"No, now," I say, too quickly. Too eagerly. I clear my throat, adjust my tone and my face. "Now works just fine for me, Taro!"

Rantaro blinks. "Taro…?"

"Taro!" I chirp. "So  _ tell me _ about this killing game."

"I don't remember the details," he shakes his head, "but I remember I was in one. Two, actually. I... sacrificed myself in one game, expecting to die, but instead I was roped into participating in the next one. I don't think I took it very well."

"Gee, Rantaro, how come your mom lets you have  _ two _ killing games?" I wink. He does not laugh.

"The  _ thing, _ is, I'm not sure if that relates to our current predicament or not. If… if  _ this _ is a killing game or not. If we're going to be made to kill our classmates any day now, or-"

"Or if we already have," I finish, and he flinches with such suddenness that I  _ know _ it's the thought he had hoped would go unspoken.

I'm not real good at leaving thoughts unspoken.

"So anything else you remember?" I ask, to keep the conversation moving. Rantaro looks like he got hit hard by that one.

He shakes his head briskly, clearing out whatever thoughts. "Not much helpful. I was asked by…  _ whatever _ was running the show… to record something for myself to watch later. No real benefit, since I don't have it now, and don't remember what I recorded." His look turns from pensive to appraising. "And you?"

I…

I can't share this. There's no  _ way _ I can share this. I can't. It's too much. It's just too much. I killed people. I  _ fucking _ killed people! Their blood is on my hands! There's  _ no telling _ how many more I killed, to end up here. Could even be responsible for all of them. I do like to style myself as a villain an  _ awful _ lot. I-

I killed Iruma. I killed Gonta. And of all the people I've seen, besides Rantaro, those have been the only two I've cared about even a little. I guess it just goes to  _ fucking _ show you should never let yourself get close to me. I'm already too close to Amami. I need to cut and run, need to get away, need to stop this  _ stupid _ attachment bullshit I  _ know _ I have no business-

"You don't have to say it now."

Wh-

"What?" I realize how almost  _ breathless _ that sounded, and I  _ hate _ it.

Rantaro gives me distance, space, sits back in a chair behind him. "If it hurts, or it's uncomfortable, or you're not ready, or you're afraid to tell me, or…" he waves his hand in the air, "or whatever. It's fine. You don't have to talk about it."

…

"No," I say, before I can stop myself, "I want to."

_ Why did I say that. _

"It was a," I said the word, I  _ know _ I did, "class trial." Wait, why am I still speaking? "Iruma got killed."

He sighs, heavily, the whole of his being seeming to escape him in that minute. He grips his hands together in front of him, leaning on his knees. "Well. Then that means…"

My tongue flecks against my lips, unready to speak these words. "Yep," is all I manage to say.

"Everyone who's ended up here, is, most likely, dead."

"You know, it's a shame," I immediately jump to the stupidest bullshit I can think of, "I kinda expected to see more sexy demons in hell."

"Well, you know what they say," Rantaro leans back, arcing his arms back above his head, "be the sexy demons you want to see in the world."

I  _ fucking choke. _

Rantaro smiles despite himself. I manage a little chuckle. "Okay, that was pretty good," I admit.

"So." He leans his head back down. "Did you remember anything else along with it?"

"Nah," I say, again before I can stop myself. Boy it sure would be nice if my instincts were at least  _ consistent. _ Now I just feel like a moron.

Rantaro's hands fall back to his side, but he just nods. "Alright, that's fine."

...He knows. He has to know that that's a lie. Why is he just… fine with that? He was  _ so upset _ last time I hid things from him. What about this case is different? I don't-

This doesn't make any  _ sense. _

"Okay," he says, standing up, "so if you're good, we should get going."

What's his game what's his game  _ what's his  _ **_fucking_ ** _ game??? _

The doorknob clicks.

"Wait," I hear myself say, "there's something else."

Ah, hell. Now I'm in for it.

"What is it?" He asks, turning around, those inquisitive green eyes of his boring into me.

_ Hell. _

" _ Well, _ " I start, no idea how this sentence is going to end, "we did find out who Iruma's killer was," well this is a direction, "and it turns out it was Gonta," great place for you to stop talking, Kokichi,

I breathe,

"Andit'spossibleImighthavebeeninvolvedinorchestratingthemurderandusingitforsomepurposeIdon'tevenknowanymore," I blurt out all at once.

Rantaro blinks, walks slowly back over to his chair, spins it around so the back's facing me, and sits down in it. His hand reaches up and holds his cheek as he stares me down, expression unreadable. "I think," he says calmly, "you should probably take this from the top."

...So I do.

I tell the truth and I tell the truth and I'm honest and it  _ hurts _ like nothing I've ever done but I  _ need this. _ I need someone else to know. I  _ need _ to be able to talk about this.

It almost feels like another person, who said and did those things. And I can't look him in the mirror, not yet. Not without help.

So I tell him about my plan, or what I know of it, my motivations, the nothing I know of it. What I remember of what I was thinking at the time, what I was feeling at the time, what I was feeling  _ reliving _ it. I tell him about Gonta, about how he didn't even  _ fucking remember _ killing her. About how  _ unfair _ it was.

I almost cry again, when I tell Rantaro what a bastard I was to Gonta. When I shakily tell him, in the vaguest possible terms, how Gonta died. When I, try to tell him what I did afterwards. When I need a minute, or two, or ten, before I can tell him. I almost cry.

But I don't cry.

I don't. Ouma Kokichi only cries on command.

I… tell Rantaro what I did after Gonta died. The things I said. What little I know of why I said them. I tell him how absolutely  _ frustrating _ it is, all of this.

He just nods quietly, like he has been. Very occasionally, he'll ask a point about the details, but for the most part, he's quiet.

"So…" Rantaro says, when I finally stop speaking, "this guy, the one you've been talking about, the one who said all that to you. He's a mystery solver, huh?"

I blink.  _ This _ is what he wants to talk about? "I… guess?"

His hand shifts to his chin. "Sorta like… a detective?"

"Yeah, maybe?" I don't… know? "Are you going somewhere with this?"

"You haven't had the time to check the rooms as thoroughly as I have, and the room you mentioned you thought was his? It was filled with files that depicted different murder cases. So it's possible he really is some sort of detective. A fair few of the people who have ended up here have had an association with something." He gestures his spare hand out. "Akamatsu with the piano, or Gonta with the bugs."  _ Don't _ mention the bugs, Rantaro. "It's possible that figuring out mysteries is just your man's  _ thing. _ "

"…Yeah, maybe," I mumble. And… what  _ of it? _ "Of all the things you're gonna focus on, it's  _ that? _ " I have  _ bigger problems _ than worrying about this guy's  _ profession _ right now, Rantaro.

"What would you prefer we focus on?" He asks. Like it's not  _ obvious. _

"I  _ killed people! _ " I shout at him. "What, are you expecting me to just," I let out a bitter, mocking laugh, " _ it's a lie! _ And pretend it never happened?"

"No," Rantaro says. "I know you're telling the truth. There's too much detail. It's possible you may be omitting parts or twisting the truth here and there, but I sort of doubt it."

Well,  _ now _ I want to lie just out of  _ spite. _

" _ But, _ " Rantaro follows up, "to answer your unspoken question… no, it doesn't bother me."

"Why?" The word is on my lips before I know what to do with it. This  _ really _ has not been my morning for that.

A smile shows on his face. Bitter. "I think I know enough to say this is a  _ killing game _ for sure, Kokichi." I hate the thrill I get when he says that (my name, not killing game, never killing game, hate that on his lips). "We're surrounded, then, by victims and their killers. People forced to play the game. And they're people who don't even  _ remember _ it. You don't remember it, doing what you did, or why." He lets out a small chuckle, a little forced. "If we really  _ are _ dead, I think we have to start by letting things go. That may be why we can't remember the killing game."

"Nice job screwing  _ that _ one up, Taro," I scowl at him, "you absolute  _ rulebreaker, _ you."

His laugh is more genuine this time. "I suppose I've always taken them as more of a suggestion."

I insistently spin a tuft of hair around my finger. "But if it wasn't for your," I scrunch the fingers of my spare hand up in air quotes, "'rule breaking' with the End, neither of us would be here right now, so I don't think I can  _ complain, _ exactly."

Wait, why am I  _ comforting him _ now? ...I'm just… discombobulated and junk from waking up like that after that nasty ass memory, that's all.

"It's not your fault, you know," he says, out of  _ fucking _ nowhere, "at least, I don't think so. Which isn't to say you don't have a responsibility to those you killed… but... " his face hardens, "it's this  _ fucking _ game. It's  _ designed _ to coax people into killing, to force them into situations where they feel like they  _ have to _ kill. When I find the ringmaster," his eyes flick to me, pointedly, "the  _ real one, _ " they flick away, "I'm going to  _ wring their neck. _ "

You know... 

Maybe I didn't make such a bad choice with Taro after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's where we diverge a bit from typical canon Kokichi. Kokichi has a lot of feelings here, especially because, like, he can't even UNDERSTAND his own motivations or reasons for his actions at this point. We'll get into that im sure. but. hes not having a good time rn.
> 
> THEY FIGURED IT OUT!!! THEY FIGURED OUT THEYRE FUCKIN DEAD. ROUND OF APPLAUSE ALL.
> 
> this is never gonna come back bc rantaros not gonna focus on it but he definitely ignored kokichi's lie here as a ploy to get him to open up and it worked eerily well because kokichi was already super shaken up. rantaro you player you. 
> 
> kokichi: heartfelt confession of guilt  
> rantaro: hey so about your boyfriend
> 
> he's trying to redirect. hes just. very bad at it.
> 
> this is!!! my last buffer chapter!! gonna try and keep pounding out boys but we will see how it goes.

**Author's Note:**

> Subtitled: Rantaro Amami Declares War On The Concept Of Entropy
> 
> Just a general warning... I intend for this to end up as therapy/recovery/healing... eVENTUALLY, but... things are gonna get worse before they get better.
> 
> Also, we're gonna get hella existential up in this bitch so be ready for that.


End file.
